


Children of War and Magic

by Alexandrit



Series: Age of Arcanists [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Female Protagonist, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-19 01:44:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 86,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20649155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexandrit/pseuds/Alexandrit
Summary: None knows how the daughter of Lily and James Potter survived when Lord Voldemort tried to murder on Samain 1986, least the child herself.Custody of the orphaned girl falls to her godfathers, Severus Snape and Sirius Black, much to the chagrin of the Headmaster of Hogwarts. As much as Dumbledore likes little Roslyn James Potter - he would like her far better with some puppet strings attached.Growing up in New Zealand, far away from the meddling old man, sounds more appealing by the day.[Crossposted on Fanfiction.net]





	1. How endings begin

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Iwillrunforever for beta-reading this story.

_30th October 1986_

_Hidden home of the Potters_

_Presumably somewhere in the United Kingdom_

"Draco! Come here at once!" Lady Narcissa Malfoy was a woman of perfect manners. And now she was yelling after her son, a telltale sign that she had lost patience with the boy's mischief. One spell later, she picked her son off his petrified broom. "Caught you," she tried to use a strict tone, but her loving smile betrayed her.

"You cheated, mummy!"

Draco cuddled up against her fur-lined robes anyway. And watched his friend flying another round through the living room.

Lily Potter was having a tad more trouble with her daughter, "Rose!"

She longed to tie the damn broom in midair using a charm, as Narcissa had done. But she feared that Roslyn might fall off at a sudden stop. It was a toy, but somehow the child managed to set a downright terrifying pace. She had a talent for flying, one of the traits she had hoped James would not pass on to their daughter.

And... The girl was at the other side of the house. Again.

She stopped running, already feeling a stitch. "_'It's a toy. What could go wrong?'_" she mimicked Sirius's words. He had said that when he had gifted his goddaughter the flying nightmare of doom for her last birthday.

She looked at her friend, who still cuddled with her son. "Cissy, do something!"

Narcissa watched an unladylike smirk on her face, as Rose flew by, waving at Draco.

"She will have no problems joining her Hogwarts Quidditch team."

"You're not helping here."

Lady Malfoy shrugged, in a very similar way her cousin Sirius would do. "You can't suit everybody, darling."

Lily huffed and used her last resort. **"Roslyn James Acacia Potter!"**

The six-year-old froze upon hearing her full name. She flew to her mother, showing her most innocent smile. "Yes, mum?"

The smile was every bit her father's. Charming and all:_ 'Me? I never misbehave in any shape or form!'_ And Lily could not bring herself to be angry or even annoyed. Not when they looked at her like butter wouldn't melt in their mouths, despite knowing better.

The opening of the front door interrupted her musings. James Potter announced his homecoming, "It's me, my fair ladies! Peter is here as well, and there's a mutt we can't get rid of."

"That joke is getting old, prongs," Sirius chided him while they took off the dirty battle robes.

"As old as you are, Padfoot?" Peter asked and Sirius did them the favour. "Exactly! That's what... Wormtail, you -" his friends' laughter drowned out his next words.

"Dad! Sirius! Uncle Peter!" Rose flew with minimal braking straight into the arms of her godfather. He barely avoided falling to the ground under the impact, "Are you training for the World Cup again, Bambi?"

"I'll be the best seeker of like all time!" Roslyn announced and then gave a yelp when Sirius threw her over his shoulder. "I would never dare doubt that!" he said, following James into the living room.

"Hello, Uncle Peter," Rose grinned at the only marauder in her field of view.

"It's nice to see you. Did you have fun today?"

"So much! Aunt Cissy and Draco are over and we played 'Enchanted Orchard'! And Quidditch! And Aunt Cissy made cookies for us! And -" Roslyn bubbled on about her day. She didn't notice how Peter's friendly expression had turned into a pained grimace.

In the doorway to the living room, Lily stood with her arms crossed, exhaustion showing on her face. But she smiled at her husband and how could James do anything but beam back at her? He hugged her, still enjoying their difference in height. He rested his chin on her head. "Long day?" he murmured the question into her flaming red hair. His grin grew wider when she made an indignant huff, but he knew she was happy, too. "She will never be able to pass off as anything but your daughter."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," he teased.

"We'll leave now," Narcissa announced - in her wisdom she had her son still in her arms.

Neither child was particularly fond of the idea. "Can't we stay longer, Mum?"

"Or Draco could spend the night!" Rose added.

"Pleeeeaaaase!" They had long ago mastered the art of whining as one, along with pouting lips and puppy dog eyes misting over.

Sadly, the performance was useless. While the men melted on the spot, it left Lily and Narcissa unimpressed. "The two of you spent the whole day together, Draco. You'll see each other again soon."

"But -"

"No buts, Roslyn." Her mother insisted, "Grab Draco's toys from your room and then you say goodbye."

"Yes..." both children murmured, sounding resigned.

"You two are not only welcome in our home to keep my wife and daughter company, Narcissa." James remarked, his tone soft, after the kids had left.

"I know and I am always grateful for your kindness and hospitality. But you three should spend some time together as a family." The last part she uttered so low that both Potters could've decided not to hear it.

The group moved to the kitchen, where the fireplace was, to see them off.

"You... are probably right," Lily's smile was a little forced, "Thank you, Narcissa - See you soon."

"Goodbye."

Once they had disappeared with a blaze of green flames, Peter announced his own departure.

"We haven't spent an evening together in weeks!" James looked a bit crossed. "Come on, buddy!"

He shrugged in a what-can-you-do way. "I'm sorry, but it's important business."

"Let him, Prongs. At least he knows what he's missing." Sirius ruffled his best friend's hair, ignoring his indignant yelp.

"Are you doing phoenix-stuff?" Rose asked, eyes wide with curiosity, making the adults chuckle.

"Yes, I have to do phoenix-stuff," he gave the child a goodbye-hug before he seemed to remember something. "But I got this for you," he handed her a plush toy, a phoenix. Rose ran circles around them in excitement, jumping and laughing.

"It's from Professor Dumbledore. As a late birthday present," Peter grinned at her shenanigans. "I will tell him she likes it."

After he too had left through the green flames Rose turned to Sirius. With tilted head and her special smile, she asked. "But you stay, right?"

"Of course," he said as he scooped her up again, leaving Lily and James alone in the kitchen. "Let's go play and give your parents the chance to have couple time."

"Couple time?" Rose wondered.

"Well, when people really, really like each other..." He started to say, only to two yells as one interrupting him, coming from the kitchen. "SIRIUS!"

"They spend time together and have fun." He smirked, and then said a little louder. **"What did you think I was going to say?"** He didn't even try to hide the teasing tone in his voice.

"So Draco and Neville and I are having couple time?" Rose asked confused.

"Well...No," Sirius realized his grave mistake with starting that topic.

"Why not?" the little girl inquired.

"You're only allowed to have couple time when you're at least... thirty."

"Mum and dad are not thirty."

"Well... do you want to play a game? Parcheesi?" Sirius asked trying to get off the subject.

"Yes!" He acknowledged her excited reaction with a sigh of relief.

o ~ O ~ o

  
Back in the kitchen Rose's parents sat together. Lily started to prepare dinner by charming the knife to cut the vegetables, "How was the day? - You three looked like you were in battle."

James hesitated for a fraction of a second. It had been a usual day, meaning horrible and life-threatening as they came nowadays. "Voldemort attacked London. The Houses of Parliament, but the wards withstood until we arrived."

"I see... Losses?" Lily asked, hoping for the best despite knowing better.

"Gideon took a bad hit and... Fabian is dead. Bellatrix Lestrange killed him." James hated that maniac so much. Out of Voldemort's lieutenants, she was the most unpredictable nightmare.

"Poor Gideon - And Molly! Losing one brother and having the other hurt..."

"Dumbledore will tell her tomorrow. But Moody and Remus managed to capture Rabastan Lestrange. He won't see the outside of Azkaban ever again."

She was silent, looking out of the window, a grim expression on her face. And the knife rammed itself through the cutting board and into the worktop. Both of them looked at the trembling blade.

"Petal?" he approached her like one would do with a wounded animal.

"How much longer can we fight this?" She asked more herself than her husband. "It's been almost 17 years!"

James placed an arm around her shoulders, offering her comfort. "The war will end, love - And we will survive it."

She leaned into his touch, but was still tense. "I don't want to raise Rose like this anymore. I can't even let her play in the garden for fear that..." Lily finally looked at him; there were no tears in her green eyes, only righteous fury. "Damn the prophecy! And damn You-know-who! She is a child! Our daughter!"

"And we'll protect her, nobody will harm our little princess." he reassured her with all the confidence he had. "I won't let that happen!"

"I know," Lily finally smiled at him. "I love you, James."

"I love you, too. I love you so much," he murmured into her hair.

"And tomorrow we'll go together again," she told him.

He would prefer if she stayed at home where it was safe. Even if that meant he had to go into battle without his partner - which she was in every sense of the way. "You should stay here with Rose for a few days - Narcissa is right about how little time we spend with her."

"Don't try to guilt trip me, James Potter - You know as much as I do that neither of us can win such an argument." It was no accusation, but her smile was rueful. Today she had played and taken care of her baby girl for the whole day. For the first time in over a week. But she couldn't and wouldn't allow her husband to fight without her more than necessary.

James tried to reason with her, despite knowing he had lost. "But -"

"I'm a member of the Order," she reminded him. "And the Death Eaters are still more afraid of me than of you!"

"Well that's not surprising..." he murmured lowly, remembering the last time he had been the target of Lily's legendary anger. “What about Rose?"

"She will be very happy to see Severus again."

Her husband made a face. "Shouldn't you add a good thing after telling me the bad news?"

"He is her godfather and she adores him."

"I don't like her being around him so much," James snapped, crossing his arms. He couldn't stand the sarcastic potion master. It was not that he distrusted the former Death Eater. The past few years he had proven his loyalty to the Order of the Phoenix time and time again. It was not for Voldemort's lack of trying that Snape was still breathing.

His wife could practically hear his thoughts and snickered. "I should be glad you get along with Narcissa, shouldn't I, love? - But is it too much to treat Severus like her?"

James and Narcissa had become friends almost instantly after she joined the Order. Most of said Order was still floored about that, Lily included.

"She was never a Death Eater. And Lucius died fighting You-know-who."

"To protect Cissy, Draco, Rose and me. And who was the person stood right beside him?" Lily pretended to think hard. "Do you remember, dearest?"

"Yes, yes, I know what Snape did," he admitted grumpily. "But that doesn't mean I have to like him!"

"No, of course not," Lily replied, a little snippy. "But not everything is about you."

"It's not?" James looked at his wife, wearing a mock horrified expression, a hand over his heart. "But... then my whole life has been a lie!"

She was trying hard to glare at him. It was rather unconvincing as her shoulders shook with silent laughter. "You idiot!" she managed to say that, but it sounded more like an endearment.

"I'm hurt," James smiled, "I'm far cleverer than you give me credit for!"

"Sure thing, love," She kissed him. "Don't worry. I only married you for your looks."

o ~ O ~ o

  
_30th October 1986_

_Redstone Manor, ancestral home of the ancient and noble house of Nott_

_Environs of Inverness, Scotland_

"I forbade you to ever cross our doorstep again!"

The patriarch of the family was well into his sixties, but age didn't matter with magic. The much younger Allen Nott landed hard on the gravel path several yards from the entrance hall. Groaning he got up, half-expecting another attack.

"Now crawl back to your so-called 'Dark Lord'!"

Lord Nott spoke the title with pure contempt. His eyes held a similar expression for the Death Eater who was staggering to his feet. A young man he had once called his son-in-law.

"I want to see my son! You cannot keep him here forever!"

"Of course, I can," he turned around, only to see his six-year-old grandson. His blue eyes staring wide-eyed and scared at his father. The family house-elf tugged on the child's pyjamas, a worried expression on her face. In vain she tried to coax him further into the house.

Lord Nott was thankful that Allen could not see his son from his position.

"Please!" Allen was begging now, "Just for a moment! I have not seen him since Berenice -"

The giant doors slammed shut behind the Lord's back, which cut off the rest of the rambling.

"You should be asleep, Theo," he chided his grandson softly and scooped him up in his arms.

"I heard screaming. Is the werewolf back?" Theo was close to tears, hiding against his grandfather's robes.

"No, child," he stroked the shock of tangled hair, trying to soothe him. "There is nothing to fear."

"... I miss Mummy, grandpa"

"I miss her, too."

He thought a moment, knowing sleep was out of the question for a while, and then asked, "Should we listen to some music? Or we could paint? You did not finish the picture with the pony yet."

"It's a unicorn!" Theo's indignation made him smile. "It even has two horns! How can you miss that?!"

Of course he didn't miss that. And he had refrained from telling Theo that the second horn made it a bicorn, not 'extra magical'.

"So? We can give it a mane and proper tail."

"Can we paint and listen to music?"

"Of course, child."

It was not an hour later that Theo started to fall asleep over his drawing, a smile on his face. His grandfather waited for the final tunes of 'Wasser Musik' to end and picked him up. Despite his best efforts, he got even more colour on his robes.

o ~ O ~ o

  
_30th October 1986._

_Laburnum Manor, home of the Bulstrode family_

_Dublin, Ireland_

Millicent sleepily toddled after her sister. "Where are you going?"

"Shh! – Go back to bed." She was five years older than Millicent. And she really wanted to know why her parents were meeting up with the Flints and Mrs Davis in the middle of the night.

"But I don't want to!" She whined and Cecilia clapped a hand over her mouth before the noise could alert the adults. "Fine! But be quiet!"

Only when Millicent nodded, she removed her hand. Together they went further down the corridor towards the living room. Luckily the door was ajar.

"We will remain neutral in these matters," she heard her father say.

"You are in a precarious situation, Stanton," that had to be Mrs Davis, the mother of Millicent's friend Tracy. Cecilia could not stand the woman. "You cannot evade this decision forever."

"That you actually approve of this war is disgusting!"

"Oh? Maybe you should join Dumbledore? Are you suddenly fond of Muggles and Mudbloods? I had no idea!"

Cecilia could hear the fire cracking over the following silence. She knew there had been said more than she had understood.

"You cannot be on their side!" Mrs Flint sounded furious. "What about your daughter?!"

"I am doing this for Tracy. The question is what kind of world do you want for your children to leave behind? One where those of noble blood have to bow?"

It was Mrs Flint who answered that. "How about a world not built on corpses of the innocent?"

"Trust a healer to be so sentimental."

"Sentimental? Are you out of your -"

Cecilia's mother interrupted before Mrs Flint could finish. "I ask you to leave us now, Mrs Davis,"

"But, my dear -"

"Please," She insisted firmly, "And tell your Lord we won't join his cause."

"I hope you will not regret this decision."

What followed were a few stiff pleasantries and the distinct rushing sound of the floo. Then silence, until their father broke it, "Who wants Firewhiskey?"

"A double!" Mrs Flint's immediate answer drew a chuckle from her husband. "I'll take the same. – But what do we do now? You-know-who does not take kindly to rejections."

Cecilia flinched when Millicent audible gasped behind her, hearing the phrase. The adults were too preoccupied with their talk to notice.

"We cannot go to Dumbledore either..."

"Why not?" It was Mrs Flint again. "He helped Severus. And if I have to choose between him and... You-know-who, I will take my risk with him in a heartbeat."

"But joining his 'order' will make us targets! The Death Eaters attacked the parliament just today! I am not like the Potters or the Longbottoms. I want our children safe from that monster!"

"They will not truly be safe from him until he is dead!"

Cecilia and Millicent never knew how her parents had decided. One of the house-elves spotted them and shooed the girls back to their beds.

Thankfully without telling the master or the mistress of the misbehaving.

o ~ O ~ o

  
_30th October 1986._

_Potter Manor, former home of the noble house of Potter_

_Cardiff, Wales_

In the days of Lord Fleamonth and Lady Euphemia, the manor had been lively. Always filled with guests or various family members visiting them. After the death of her husband, she had moved into a smaller house. Her son, James Potter, had sold the magnificent estate a few years back.

It filled Lord Voldemort with a vicious glee to live in the former home of one of his most annoying enemies. Even more so as he was planning the death of the little family this very moment. The pieces were falling together perfectly.

His Inner Circle knew not why he was in such an elated mood. Despite the fact that they had lost Lestrange and several recruits. But none would question it. A night without the Cruciatus Curse hurled in their direction was a good night. Since the betrayal of Severus Snape, Lord Voldemort kept his plans and secrets closer. Only his three lieutenants were in the know.

No one took notice of the small boy sitting on the topmost stair. He watched with avid interest what happened down in the main hall.

The Dark Lord was creepy. But it was fine, to find him scary, because every adult was afraid of him, too. He knew that even his godmother's husband feared him. And he was a Death Eater. Whatever the term meant, but it was something they were proud of.

"Richard!"

He flinched at the low, hissing voice of his godmother. A moment later she dragged him away from the staircase.

"What have I told you?" As sharp as she spoke, it was out of fear and worry. She could not imagine something worse than Lord Voldemort taking notice one of her boys.

"Not to leave my room when he is here," he answered.

"Right. Why are you even out of bed?"

"I can't sleep. You-know-who laughs so loud, like an evil mastermind."

Marian had a hard time not to chuckle at the fitting description.

She grabbed her younger son's hand, leading him to his bedroom.

"Come on, I'll put up a silencing charm and we can read a little bedtime story."

It was one of the nights where she would fall asleep in one of her children's rooms again.


	2. Why she loathes Halloween

_31st October 1986_

_Hidden home of the Potter-family_

Rose occupied her favourite spot in the cosy living room. The sill of the window overlooking the street. She watched the dressed-up children of every age marching through the autumn weather.

She loved Halloween. Even though she had never been allowed to join the other kids. And no one rang on the door of the Potter-household for sweets either. She knew it was due to the many wards that surrounded the house, but it still made her feel left out. Nonetheless it was nice for once to not be around her friends. Draco, Neville and Esther celebrated Samain with their respective families. And Dora was at Hogwarts, enjoying the feast there.

Neither of the elder Potters cared much for _The old ways_, hence they were out doing ‘Phoenix stuff’. For Roslyn it was not unusual that they left often, it only bothered her when they left to fight. Her parents or Sirius or Sev or any other order member for that matter.

She looked to her right at her second godfather, Severus Snape, who sat next to her and read a new book. The writing was French, but judging by the cauldron and flowers on the cover it was about potions.

Sirius thought the very idea of staring out of a window boring. He would beg her to do something else instead. Inventing pranks, flying, or play with Padfoot.

Sev had only crooked his head, when she had asked, smiled ever so slightly and made hot chocolate. And kept her company. He and Sirius were like day and night. Severus was calm and quiet, smelled of the things he used for his potions. He could spent hours telling her stories and myths of old. Or answering her endless questions.

“You are awfully quiet today, Corbillat,” he remarked, feeling her gaze on him.

“You know it makes no noises when you move, don’t you, Sev?”

He shoot her a amused smirk and closed his book. “I am aware - What is bothering you?”

She took a sip of her hot chocolate before answering. “Mum was very angry yesterday.”

Severus frowned hearing this. “Why would you think that?”

Lily rarely showed her anger and sorrow around her daughter. She wanted to keep the war as far from Rose as possible. Fabian’s death had hit her harder than expected it seemed.

He himself had never been overly fond of the Prewett twins, but seeing Gideon breaking down over his dead brother...

It was another memory to keep him awake at night. What had possessed him to teach Bellatrix of all maniacs his Sectumsempra curse?

“She knifed the counter,” Rose told him, sounding far more casual about it than a six-year-old had any right to, “again. Yesterday was a bad day, wasn’t it?”

“Corbillat... Your mom has some things on her mind,” Severus tried to explain.

He was not ‘good’ with children, neither particularly kind nor patient. But he loved both his goddaughter and his godson, Draco. He would make every imaginable effort to maintain their affectionate relationships. Part of him still did not believe that he had one with a child of _James Potter_ in the first place.

Rose nodded at his words but didn’t seem convinced. He could not blame her for it. A day spent with hot chocolate, stories and dancing flames in the fireplace wouldn't fool her. The house in which she lived in was an island in an ocean of war. And she was not stupid. Too young to understand everything, but she was observant. Rose took note of the changes in her parents and the Order members when they came home after battles. Soaked in blood and darkness clinging at them.

“I wish the war was over, Sev,” she said and moved to watch the hustle and bustle outside again. Rose was the only one allowed to call him by this moniker. Sirius had tried once, Severus’ death glare made him refrain from further attempts.

“Everyone wants that, Corbillat.” As lovely he thought the nickname ‘Bambi’, there were limits to self-induced torture.

He read a bit more about the use of moonshine vines as ingredient for potions. They enjoyed the comfortable silence, until his goddaughter spoke again. “So why is it going on?”

“The war?” he clarified and she nodded, frown still on her face.

“If everybody wants the war to be over, why is it not?”

And there was he, asking himself why the Hogwarts curriculum held no ‘How to explain your goddaughter that Voldemort desires to slaughter everyone she loves, without traumatising her for life’ course. “The... sides very much... _disagree_.”

“Aunt Alice says if you have an argument, you sit down and talk about it!” Enthusiasm shone in green eyes and Severus had to smile. “And she is right, one should try to discuss with another first. But if the other doesn’t want to talk you can’t help it.”

Rose pondered over his words. She mimicked her father, hands together and the tips resting against her chin.

“But the war will end someday – And then you can dress up and beg for sweets,” he added, causing her to squeal with delight. “Oh yes! I want to be a pirate! Or Robin Hood! Or...”

Severus listened while she rattled of a long list of possibilities. He outright laughed when she talked about wearing a Dumbledore costume. He hoped that there would be a time to make her wish reality.

But Voldemort tried everything in his power to get a hold on her again. The prophecy left room for interpretation, who ‘The Chosen One’ was, but... As things stood Rose was the most likely candidate. And the Dark Lord had seen how strong developed her affinity for magic was already. He wanted her gone.

He suppressed a shiver at the mere idea. His bright, little goddaughter.

_Over my dead body!_ he decided for himself. Not for the first time and it would not be the last.

Rose interrupted his chain of thoughts, which grew darker by the second. She climbed on his lap and cuddling against his black robes. “You’re glaring into thin air again, Sev.”

“I know.”

“What did the air do to you?”

“The usual, Corbillat,” he replied with a smile. “The usual.”

The noise of a key turning was coming from the front door. One moment he was perfectly still, hand on his wand and ready for a fight. Then Lily´s voice announced. “We are back!”

“Mum! Dad!” Rose immediately ran off to greet them. When Severus reached the entrance hall, she was already in her mother’s arms.

“How was your day, sweetie?” she asked with a wide smile.

“We had so much fun! It was great! - Look!” She stretched her hands out, making a butterfly of greenish light appear. It flew around James. “It likes you!”

“It’s amazing, sweetheart!” he praised her while the small spark of magic landed on his head and disappeared. Although not before turning his hair into various shades of green. “And you were a good girl, weren’t you?” He asked, without a clue to his new hairstyle.

“Of course,” Rose said with such sweet innocence, it made it even harder for Lily and Severus not to get a laughing fit.

He glared at potion master. Partly because his whirlwind of a daughter was always on her best behaviour with him. And he had no idea what the other man deemed so funny.

“I’ll take my leave now,” Severus announced and gave James a curt nod and a rather amused smirk.

Rose followed him towards the door, along with her mother.

“When will I see you again?” she asked him while he controlled the wards around the house. Even with the Fidelius charm in place it never hurt to check twice.

“Not tomorrow, but the day after.” He squatted down at her eye-level. “No sulking, Corbillat.”

“… Maybe,” she murmured but she already smiled.

He gave her a hug and stood up, only for Lily giving _him_ a hug as well. “Be careful out there, okay?”

“As careful as open war can be approached,” he answered too lowly for Rose to catch.

“Please,” she insisted. “I... have a bad feeling. We cannot lose you.”

“Yes, I am _irreplaceable_ for the order.”

Stop that!” Lily shock her head upon the taxing men in her life: “Roslyn is easily influenced at her age!”

“... What do you wish to tell me?” he asked a little confused.

“James complained about the talking mirror yesterday. And your goddaughter said, he _‘should be glad it isn’t laughing’._”

He bit his tongue, looking over at his goddaughter, who wore a rather cheeky grin, “Clever child.”

Rose laughed and for that Lily gave his arm a slap, albeit a playful one. “Severus Tobias Snape! Don’t encourage her!”

As if on cue a horrified scream reached them from inside the house. **“MY HAIR!”**

“She does very well without me,” he chuckled lowly, imagining Potter’s face before he left.

“So…” Lily started to speak when she had finally been able to stop laughing. “Want to hear a story, Bambi?” she asked her daughter after she has closed the door. She refrained from checking the protecting spells once more. Dumbledore had casted the Fidelius charm and the secret was safe with Peter. Severus’ paranoia was rubbing off on her, it seemed.

“The Hobbit!” Rose said without even thinking.

The all-time favourite it was. “Very well - Run and get the book.”

o ~ O ~ o

  
_Godric’s Hollow, Castle lane_

Neither the Potters nor Severus had taken notice of the malicious eyes watching them. A thick wall of concealing and privacy charms between them and their target.

“Is Snape leaving?” Peter flinched hearing the voice behind him.

“Y-Yes,” his stammering got worse by the second. “S-Shall I go after him?”

Cruel laughter came from the man wearing the crimson mask. One of Voldemort’s lieutenants.

“Do not make yourself a laughing stock, Wormtail, he would tear you apart. And we need you right here, do we not?” his voice was like velvet, but the steel behind it was tangible.

The taller man terrified Peter, in a way he was less human than the Dark Lord himself.

“We deal with the traitor in due time. How fitting that he will first lose what he betrayed our Lord for. Do you not think so as well, Wormtail?”

Having the attention on him again, the tremor in his hands grew worse. The shackles around his wrists rattled. “O-Of c-course.”

“Such a waste of space and magic you are...”

The almost inaudible ‘pop’ announced the coming of Voldemort. Peter fell on the ground more than anything, while the other man knelt down gracefully. “My Lord.”

“Sothis.”

His lieutenant stood up, not bothering with the trembling figure face first in the snow. “Everything is prepared, my Lord. The Potters are home.”

“Wormtail!” The voice was more a hiss than English. “So, you betrayed me as well?”

“No, my Lord! I would never -”

_“Crutio!”_

The church bell started to ring while Peter screamed.

“Well?”

“I-I did as I was told! I swear!” he sobbed. “I gave her the toy with the rune stone to b-block a-appareting, the floo and p-portkeys.”

“And I did not find you, packing your miserable belongings mere hours ago?” Sothis inquired.

“Enough! – The secret, Wormtail.”

  


Lord Voldemort smiled to himself, finally hearing the words. “The Potters h-hide at Godric’s Hollow. C-Castle lane 7.”

Peter Pettigrew cried harder with every syllable he spoke. He had sold out his best friend and his family.

The Dark Lord watched, eyes filled with malicious glee as the house appeared out of thin air. It was time to end the charade.

“Sothis.” It was an order and his lieutenant raised his wand, making Peter screech, “Please don't kill me! I did everything! I -”

“Avada Kedavra.” The curse came natural to him and the pathetic wailing stopped. He had murdered the other man without blinking, not even his breathing changed.

He let his mask disappear, pulling his black hair back in a plait again.

“Very good, Sothis,” At the praise a spark of life entered vacant eyes: “Thank you, my Lord.” He bowed before his master, basking of the feel of his magic. He leant into the hand that touched his cheek , soaking up the caress.

“Allow me to come with you, my Lord?”

“No - Go meet the Order or something the like. I will need you to reach Dumbledore, when it’s time to deal with the old man.”

Of course, my Lord.” He knelt kissing the hem of Voldemort’s robe.

“Go now - We celebrate soon enough.”

o ~ O ~ o

  
_Home of the Potter-family_

_Godric’s Hollow, Castle lane 7_

James required half an hour to turn his hair to the usual black again.

When he (finally) came to the living room, he needed a moment to comprehend what he was seeing. Not because it was an unusual sight, but the sheer beauty of it made him stop in his tracks. His wife and his daughter. He loved them both so much, it almost took his breath away.

The ladies of the house snuggled on the big couch completely absorbed in the muggle tale. His gorgeous, fierce redhead. And their beloved little princess she had gifted him with.

Roslyn had the unruly hair the Potters were kind of famous for, but there was wine red mixed in the black. The beautiful green, almond shaped eyes and freckles doted over her cheeks were all Lily. There were other familiar traces, of her paternal grandparents. Fleamont’s straight, aristocratic nose. The rich golden skin that made Euphemia stand out in overcast Great Britain.

He could not wait to see which house she would be in - he and Sirius rooted for Griffindor. But he knew she was a Ravenclaw in the making. If not a Slytherin. He grinned at the thought. The snakes wouldn’t know what hit them before his girl had turned the pit upside down for the better...

“James?” Lily asked as she noticed her husband seemed lost in thoughts.

He smiled at them. “I love you, Lily Potter, and you, my little princess.”

Lily’s eyes grew soft and their daughter beamed at him. “I love you, da -”

A strong wave of magic rolled over their home. It cut off Rose and broke down the wards that were covering the house.

“Take Rose and run!” James had his wand ready and sprinted towards the entrance hall.

Lily picked her pale daughter up and tried to apparate, only to feel _something_ blocking the magic.

Cursing to herself she ran up the stairs, just as the front door splintered to a thousand pieces of wood.

Inside the nursery she moved the tall and heavy chiffonier to block the door.

“Rose, your portkey!” She did her hardest not to tremble, hearing the fighting downstairs. She had to get their daughter into safety and get to James’ side as fast as she could!

“Phoenix guide your way.” She forced out with a shaking voice, holding onto the raven pendant on her necklace. Only to discover that nothing happened.

“It isn’t working!”

Her mother embraced her one last time, as she said, “I love you, Roselyn - Now go stay back by the window.”

“... Mum?”

“AVADA KEDAVRA!”

They both heard the curse and James’ scream. Lily pushed her daughter deeper into the room, praying for a miracle. She did not even have her wand.

Steps on the stairs and then.

“Expulso!” The small barrier exploded.

The empty doorway revealed a figure that had haunted Rose' nightmares. Tall, a white face missing the nose and blood-red, demon-like eyes searching for her.

“Voldemort,” she choked on her own whisper.

“Roslyn,” and that voice: icy, sharp like a blade and always on the edge to hissing. “How much you have grown...”

o ~ O ~ o

  
_Townhouse of the Longbottom-family, Headquarter of the Order of the Phoenix_

_Manchester, England_

Severus was swearing inwardly as he was singing the _Vulnera Sanentur _chant to treat a nasty gash in Frank Longbottom’s chest. As soon as he had set foot over the doorstep, the sight of the injured Auror, along with two helpless healers and a desperate Alice, had practically greeted him. As if he had needed another reason to hate Bellatrix Lestrange. Using _his_ curse! The nerve of that wench!

The flesh of the last wound knitted together, a silver scar, one of five new ones, the only reminder of the injury.

“I’m leaving the rest to you,” It was more of a statement than an actual question towards Madam Pomfrey, the Head Healer of Hogwarts, who had arrived.

“Of course,” Her eyes had not left him the whole time. “They never quite manage the counter-curse like you do.”

“It _is_ mine after all.”

He was already at the door when Alice called him. “Severus?”

“Yes?” her eyes were misty, but she smiled gratefully. “Thank you so very much!”

Severus simply nodded, still not exactly comfortable with such situations (something Lily teased him relentlessly about) and excused himself. He was on his way to check their stock of healing potions and herbal remedies, when a searing pain shot threw his body, forcing him to his knees and leaving him breathless.

After a short eternity someone was approaching him with hurried steps. “Severus? What is wrong? Are you hurt?”

_Splendid, _he sighed inwardly. Out of all people to see him in such a state it had to be Remus Lupin. Although it was still better than be found by Potter. Or one of the other Aurors. Or Black. Okay, the werewolf wasn’t _that_ bad after all.

“It’s nothing,” he murmured while forcing himself back onto his feet.

Remus was clever enough not to try and help him, but watched him with concern. He had seen the former Death Eater brush of a Cruciatus Curse like a mere trifle.

“Are you injured?”

“No,” the pain was slowly ebbing away, but he still leaned against the wall trying to get his breathing back to normal. “I have no idea…” he trailed off.

“… no idea _what_?”

Severus ignored him, his mind was racing. He had placed wards around the Potter’s home, just in case, long before Dumbledore had worked the Fidelius Charm. For such a violent reaction, his protections would have to be broken down all at once. So how...

“No,” he whispered under his breath. The next instant he storming towards the front door - And praying that he was wrong.

o ~ O ~ o

  
_Godric’s Hollow, Castle lane_

Dead silence lay over the village like a cloak. The home of the Potter’s had been a refined, about 200 years old, house. Now all that remained was a smoldering ruin.

Voldemort was behind this, there was no way he would only sent his followers.

Wand drawn, Severus made his way through the wood and stone scattered front garden. It was James, who he found first. The body of his once nemesis laid half on the stairs with his limbs twisted. Thick lines of blood trailed from his eyes and mouth.

Strangely saddened he stepped over the corpse, towards the gaping hole that had been the door to his goddaughter´s room. The fear of what he might find made it feel like he walked through morass. But all the pictures his mind had vividly imagined couldn’t compete with the horror of reality.

Lily.

She laid in the middle of the nursery, fire-red hair outspread around her and radiant green eyes already turned to grey. Tears started to blur his vision, but not before he caught a glimpse of Rose, half tangled into the fabric of the torn down curtains.

_Get a grip on yourself, Snape! You can collapse once Roslyn is out of danger! _

_If she is not dead as well_, a malicious voice in the back of his mind added, crackling sickly.

He carefully picked her up. In an instant he felt Rose’ warmth and heartbeat. His knees finally gave out. Embracing the small body of the child, he couldn’t have loved more, had she been his, and feeling eternally grateful that she was alive. For a long moment Severus was not able to do anything else.

When he roughly wiped his tears away, he could think straight again.

Rose was unconscious with blood covering the right side of her pale face. He cursed himself for not noticing the injury earlier and summoned a wet cloth and cleaned the caking liquid off her skin. After a quick healing spell to stop the bleeding he examined the wound.

Three thick, straight cuts, it resemble a sharp-edged ‘S’. Like the Futhark rune he could not quite remember the name of. It cut her right eyebrow in half, went just shy of the outer corner of her eye and ended next to her ear.

A curse-wound if he had ever seen one, but what had happened? Why was Rose alive and Lily…

There would be a better time to dwell on such thoughts. He got up with his wand in one hand and in the other arm the form of his goddaughter. Like he had carried her countless occasions. When Severus turned he stared at the slumped body at the far end of the room and his heart nearly stopped.

Voldemort.

He didn’t even think about it consciously, an Expelliarmus and a Binding Spell were casted before he had fully registered what he saw. The yew wand flew to him without any resistance and Voldemort did nothing when rusty chains moved around his form like the snakes he was so fond of. Was he…? The haunting red eyes stared empty and aimless, while Severus fingers on his pulse-point only confirmed what he deep down knew already. The Dark Lord was dead.

_Did_ _Lily did manage to… - No, then Rose would be uninjured, so how… _His train of thoughts stopped when he heard hurried steps downstairs and cursed his foolishness. He had lingered to long.

His goddaughter in one arm was not an optimal fighting-stance, but hell would freeze over before he let go of her. Severus considered apparation for a moment, but doing that with someone unconscious was never a good idea, even worse if said person was a hurt child.

Quiet like a shadow he darted to the corridor and casted a quick glance downstairs. Sirius Black knelt weeping over the corpse of his best friend - _brother_ in everything but blood - while Remus stood next to him, unbelieving.

If someone had told Severus ten years ago, that he would be relieved to see the two of them, he or she would've experienced a few of his more malicious-intended curses first hand.

They looked up at the quiet creak of the stairs and visibly paled.

“No!” Remus’ whisper seemed loud in the grave of a house.

“Rose is alive,” Severus told them, while he made his way downstairs.

“And… Lily?” he only shook his head, not trusting his voice.

“What happened?” Remus examined the wound on Rose’s forehead. “This cut looks like some kind of curse mark!”

“We need to treat her when we’re at headquarters, preferably before your manic cousin pays us a visit,” he directed the words at Sirius, who was beside himself with grief, but tried his best to pull his act together.

“We can’t leave them here,” Sirius smoothed James hair, a loving caress.

“We need to go now, Pads, but we will come back. I promise – What about Voldemort?”

“Upstairs. Dead.” The other men looked at him with a mix of disbelieve and relief.

“But… Why Lily is gone but Rose is just wounded?!”

“I don’t know. But I want her at headquarters and treat her! Everything else can wait until later.”


	3. Rain on tombstones

_Early morning,1st November 1986_

_Townhouse of the Longbottom family, Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix _

_Manchester, England_

King’s Cross Station in the wake of a Death Eater attack couldn’t have been more chaotic.

Wounded agents, wary fighters - everyone in a state of constant alarm. Voldemort’s followers were running riot. The Unspeakables had collected his body, not half an hour after the destruction of the house at Castle Lane and Dumbledore had insisted on announcing the news to the general population; with catastrophic consequences. Four major battles had broken out since then.

Gideon Prewett had joined the fighting in Diagon Alley, despite his recent injuries, and took his last breath knowing he had avenged his brother.

Frank Longbottom’s mother had died trying to protect her grandchildren Neville and Esther. Their parents had been in Hogsmeade, which now lay in ruins. Alice, Benjy Fenwick and Mad Eye Moody had arrived just in time to save the kids and capture one of Voldemort’s lieutenants, Bellatrix Lestrange, and her husband.

Fenrir Greyback’s pack had started one last attack before going into hiding, on Queen Street, Edinburgh’s equivalent of Diagon Alley. They left only dead parents and very few bitten children.

The Atrium at the Ministry of Magic was all but a battlefield, but one in favour of the Order.

Severus was barely aware of the details of the events. His main concern was his still unconscious goddaughter, resting in Sirius’ arms, on the bed he had conjured in the living-room.

“I found the books!” Remus announced, putting worn tomes on the coffee table.

“_‘History of Curses’_, Page 275,” the potions master ordered without looking while he removed another layer of black magic. “And page 394 of ‘_Runes and Rituals’”_

“Why is she still sleeping?” Sirius asked concerned. “Shouldn’t it help – whatever you do that you refuse to explain to me?”

“Shut up.”

“… Why am I here again?” he glared at the potions master, although he was clearly addressing Remus.

“Body contact with a familiar person during curse-breaking has proved to have favourable effects on children,” Severus deadpanned anyway. “And I need Lupin to bring me things.”

“Are you implying that I am too stupid to find you books?”

“If it wasn’t for all the Quidditch, I wouldn’t trust you to figure out the right end of a broom.”

“Says the genius, who got lost in Hogwarts during our **sixth** school year!”

“It was the damn forest – and at least I didn’t only discover the library in fifth year.”

“Oi! I walked in by accident!”

“No one ever doubted _that_, Sirius.”

“_And_ Severus needs a mental punching back,” Remus added grinning, rummaging through one of the potion shelves. He was glad, seeing the two men got along. Some time ago this line of conversation would have ended in either magical or bodily violence, now it was just banter to keep a semblance of sanity. It was not quite a friendship, but both cared for their goddaughter and that was apparently enough.

He looked at the small girl. It was only the fifth time ever he saw Rose. Ever since Voldemort had started targeting the Potters specifically, they had slowly but steadily pushed him away. He was still a member of the Order, but he could literally smell the distrust from the others. Dumbledore was as kind to him as always, and Sirius had actually had a fight with James because of that. Even Severus had made some of his veiled ‘backwards insult meaning compliment’ towards Lily on his account.

He missed both so much it hurt. Before he had the certainty of them being safe and happy, but now they were just _gone_.

“How is Rose?” Alice had quietly entered the room, whispering the question to Remus. Aberforth had actually dared to interrupt Severus about two hours ago, and the whole Order knew now _not_ to come too close to him when his goddaughter was injured. Nasty things had happened that involved a lot of swearing not suited for children’s ears and the patented Snape´s glare-of-certain-death.

“Getting better. Where is Dumbledore?”

“He’s needed at the ministry, but Fawkes came with a message saying he’ll be here in about half an hour at the latest.”

“Good.”

Alice sent him a soft smile and went to look after her own distressed children.

Severus was busy enchanting a rune stone and then placing it gentle on the cut on Rose’s face. The formerly bright red material was filled with what appeared to be dark mist and turned solid black a moment later.

“Care to share?” Sirius asked cautiously, when the potion master let out a frustrated growl.

Remus came back to the two of them, gently stroking Rose’s hair. It smelt and felt just like James’ had...

“Every trace of the Killing Curse is _gone_! There shouldn't be any lingering magic except her own...” he explained. “And I don’t know… what it means.”

“How about coffee, while Sirius keeps an eye on Corbillat?” He deliberately used that nickname, instate of the usual _Bambi_. “You’ve worked for hours nonstop.”

“And I will continue doing so until she is fine!”

“I insist,” Remus snapped back at the growl worthy of an irritated dragon. Severus simply raised an eyebrow, clearly saying: _Or?_

“Or I’ll drag you out!”

“Now, what would your boyfriend think?” he asked with a sly smile.

“That he knows Moony’s type is not tall, dark and pale...” Sirius trailed off, a mock pondering expression on his face, “Wait a sec! Do you want to tell me something, Remy?”

“Yeah, we only started dating because Severus would not return my feelings and you are basically his look alike,” Remus deadpanned with a fond roll of his eyes.

“That’s not true!” Sirius denied with theatricality worth for the final act of _‘Romeo and Juliet’_, “I know you love me! Don’t you dare proclaim otherwise!”

“And here I thought it could get no worse than seventh year...” Severus murmured, albeit smirking, getting back on track as he found something promising. “Remus, what do you think about this ritual? I know you dabbled with healing magic.”

Out of nowhere loud noises were coming from the entrance hall.

When Dumbledore came through the door, Fawkes on his shoulder and six Aurors as backup, there was already a three wizards line of defence between them and the bed.

“What is the meaning of this, Albus?” Severus asked lowly. He had found himself at wand point with the headmaster once before, but somehow, he knew this time it would take a turn to nasty and possibly bloody.

“Please lower your wands, my boys,” Dumbledore’s voice was calm as ever, but his eyes lacked the typical amused twinkle. “And step away from Roslyn.”

Severus was the first to act, lowering his hand but moving to stand between the other men and the sleeping girl. “Again, what is this about?”

The old man sighed deeply, “The Potter’s house was protected by the Fidelius charm, as you well know.”

“And you were their secret keeper,” Severus bit back, bitterness mixed with anger. “Apparently your former student surpassed you one last time.”

“I wasn’t the secret keeper,” Dumbledore stated flatly, grieve now openly in his eyes, “They reasoned against it. Ultimately... it was not my decision.”

The potions-master felt like someone had cut the ground from under his feet.

Voldemort had not found a way to break the Fidelius charm. The secret keeper had _told_ him. His admittedly brilliant mind swiftly came up with the only plausible conclusion.

“Severus, wait! Please!” Sirius knew that something was wrong as Remus paled and his words were spoken in near panic.

“What -” His question was answered when he felt the tip of a wand pressed painfully hard against his neck.

“Did you betray them?” Severus’s voice was low and void of any emotion

Sirius understood all too well what he did _not_ ask.

_Did you work for Voldemort all along? Did you hug Lily and James yesterday, knowing they were as good as dead? Did you play and laugh with our 6-year-old goddaughter, the intending mind to sell her out to the Dark Lord? To be murdered in the cruellest way imaginable?_

Sirius also knew that given the wrong answer the potion master would kill him, and would do so gladly.

He lowered his wand slowly, “Just like you, I would’ve died before betraying them, Severus. I wasn’t their secret keeper.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He could practically see the cold expression on Snape’s face. He had seen it often enough during their time at Hogwarts, and then later aimed at Death Eaters.

“James and Lily chose _Peter_. We all thought it was the perfect diversion…” His shoulders shook slightly, “The switch was my idea. It’s my fault that they’re dead!”

Silence hang over the room as the words sunk in. Dumbledore himself appeared stunned.

Mad-Eye Moody took a step forward, “Look, I believe you. Come to the ministry with us and we’ll sort this out. And find the bastard.”

“… Okay,” Sirius stated not really knowing what he was supposed to say anyway.

Another moment later Severus lowered his wand, more out of exhaustion than anything else.

“I’ll come as well,” Remus jumped in lowly.

“You’re needed here,” Sirius replied, trying to sound calming, even when his colleagues chained him with magic-binding hand-cuffs, “I’ll be back before you know it, grating on your nerves again.”

Severus tuned the conversation out and went to sit on the bed at Rose’s side. She was still unconscious, but the blackout had shifted slowly into real sleep. He gently brushed a curly strand of hair from her face, trying his hardest not to think.

The headmaster’s presence next to him made him look up as the old man watched the girl closely, “You did very well, my boy. I can feel no malignant magic lingering.”

Severus didn’t object, even though he knew for a fact, _No, something is still wrong! _He had no idea what the old wizard was up to, but at the moment he could not care less.

“Professor,” Remus joined in. “Is it possible… did Rose somehow…?”

“Defeat Voldemort?” Dumbledore ended the question for him. “I’m sure she did. And that is why I’ll be taking her with me now.”

He was surprised again when suddenly his potions master stood in front of him.

“Where to? And why?”

The headmaster’s voice lost a bit of the fatherly warmth, “To her family. Her aunt -”

“No!” Severus argued. Niece or not, Petunia had detested Lily’s magic and had not left much to the imagination about how she felt for Rose. His goddaughter would not grow up like him, or possibly worse.

“My dear boy, see reason. Roslyn will be a living legend before sunset! The glory is enough to turn a child’s head. Even that of an intelligent and mature girl like her.”

“A problem _you_ caused by announcing to all of Britain that she defeated Voldemort - I won’t leave her right after the loss of her parents. Or at all.”

“Severus -” Dumbledore said, exasperated and clearly more than a little irritated.

“She is Sirius’ and my goddaughter. It is our decision, not yours.”

The headmaster had hoped it wouldn’t come to an argument. He had expected a fight with the hot-headed Gryffindor, not his loyal potion teacher. Of course he was right; there was no way to revoke the guardianship. Their say concerning Rose would be first and last for the next eleven years.

“You might want to reconsider -”

“No.”

Dumbledore was wise enough to know when to give up, “Alright. If you think it is the best course of action...”

A low moan from the bed caught their attention. They watched as Rose turned around restless, whimpering lowly. Severus knew at once she was having a nightmare.

He wished he could give her a dreamless sleep draught, but with all the healing-potions and other magic coursing through her system, it would be utterly foolish.

He settled for picking her up and cradling her on his lap. “Wake up, Rose,” he called softly. Her eyelids fluttered, but she remained unconscious.

“Corbillat.”

It did the trick; she finally woke up. Severus suppressed a flinch when he looked at her eyes and noticed their forest green had shifted to an almost haunted shade of light green that seemed to glow. He recognized the tint at once. The colour of the Killing Curse.

“Sev?” Her voice was shaking, and lacked her usual cheer.

“I’m here,” Severus said softly as Rose nestled closer to him, taking in her surroundings. She knew the living-room, it was the only other place aside from her home that she had been allowed to be, the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. She noticed Professor Dumbledore and a man she thought she had seen in pictures before were there, too. Suddenly all of the memories came rushing back to her.

Looking up at her godfather, tears already trailing down her face, “He… he killed Dad.”

Her tone begged him to tell her it had just been a bad dream, but somehow she knew that it was not.

“… Mum?” One word uttered in such loss and heartbreak that Severus felt his own crack in return. He could only shake his head.

“I´m so sorry, my dear Roslyn,” Dumbledore said softly, “Your mother is dead as well.”

The young girl buried her face against Severus’ chest, small body trembling with sobs, while he tried to calm her. He was holding her as close, making sure she felt as loved and safe as possible.

The headmaster motioned for Remus to follow him, knowing a grieving child could only handle so many people around them. But Fawkes had other ideas. The phoenix flew the short distance to one of the bedposts and started singing.

The song of utter beauty filled the old house; lifting hearts and smoothing the pain of loss.

A lament for all the fallen of this war, that had just come to an end.

o ~ O ~ o

_5th November 1986_

_Oak Grove Memorial Garden_

_Godric’s Hollow, England _

While the town itself was relatively small, it had a rich history. The over eight-hundred year old cemetery was testament to it. The grim rainfall was as heavy on the oldest gravestones as it was on the two freshly dug graves and the dark coffins that would soon be lowered into them.

_Rain on a Funeral,_ Severus though bitterly, _Lily would’ve ridiculed every author daring to write such a cliché thing in a novel..._

He looked again at his goddaughter, holding her hand as his arm started to feel numb in her vice-grip. Rose had barely let go of him in the past few days, as if she feared that he would disappear into thin air if she did so. Severus had no idea where her train of thoughts had been taking her, because she had not uttered a single word since she had asked about her mother.

Only in her sleep did he heard her speaking. When she woke screaming and crying. After the third night, he had settled for giving her dreamless-potions in advance. Slight stomach-problems, should they manifest, would be dealt with later.

But everyone, especially Severus, grew restless over Roslyn’s behaviour. The mind-healer from St. Mungo’s could talk himself blue in the face about ‘_normal coping mechanisms_’ as far as he was concerned.

Her hold on his hand and arm became tighter when Remus stepped forward. The werewolf didn’t try to hide his tears. Full moon was more than a week away, but he was sickly pale and had black cycles under his eyes. Still the speech was well composed and about school time and friendship, something Severus could not bear to listen too closely to.

He let his gaze wander over the persons attending, they had decided for a private service, only family and friends. Since the defeat of the Dark Lord, _everyone_ in magical society had a high interest in _“The Legendary Roslyn James Acacia Potter, The girl-who-lived”. _Another problem to solve later.

Still, a lot of people had gathered. Lily and James had touched many lives, however short their own had been.

Alice and Frank Longbottom had come without the children; Narcissa and Draco Malfoy were there; and Lady Euphemia, James’ mother, who was marked by age and grief, stood right in front of his coffin. The resent loss of her husband, and now her beloved son and daughter-in-law, was taking a toll on her.

Lily’s friend Régine had come from New Zealand, and while she and Severus were not on best terms, she had still wished him the best in caring for Roslyn.

Most members of the Order of the Phoenix attended, as well as the Weasley family, who’s matriarch Molly was the sister to the late Fabian and Gideon Prewett.

Petunia Dursley, Lily’s only remaining blood-relative hadn’t showed up and Severus was not surprised about that.

Sirius was not present, because he had been sent to Azkaban immediately when he had arrived at the Ministry of Magic. Another reason why Remus looked ready to faint at any given moment.

Dumbledore had tried his best to get him a hearing at the Wizengamot, but the Minister wanted everything related to the Dark Lord buried. And it was easy for them to blame a Black, even more so after they had found Pettigrew’s dead body not far away from the Potter’s home.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts gave his funeral speech, and Severus tuned it out again as much as possible, forcing every emotion behind the thick walls of his Occlumency. He could not allow himself to break down. He received a soft tug on his sleeve, made him look at Roslyn and her gesture told him that she was asking to be picked up.

“Shall we say goodbye?” He spoke when he held her securely. She stared at the two light-blue calla lilies she all but clenched in her small hands, then back at Severus, nodding. He took the few steps forward, allowing Rose to stay in his arms while she gently placed one flower on each coffin.

“Lily, I…” What did he want to say anyway? What _could_ he say? Ultimately, it was his fault. The price paid for his pride, blind hatred, and ignorance.

“I will protect her with everything I have,” he whispered, “And raise her the best way I can. By my magic and life I swear you both this.”

o ~ O ~ o

_At the same time_

_Branch of the Department of Mysteries_

_Essex, Great Britain_

“Are you finished?”

“Only another moment,” one of the younger Unspeakables replied. After a few seconds he stepped back, visibly annoyed that his spell had not shown any results. But it had been a last minute idea.

“Aristides?”

The head of the department turned to look at his deputy when he addressed him, “Yes?”

“We are ready to continue.”

Over the last days the Unspeakables had tested Voldemort’s corpse with every method known to magicals and muggles, the results were... inconclusive to say at least.

But their head wanted to incinerate the body instead of keeping it, and most of his team felt glad about that decision.

All forty-four watched as the rune-enchanted coffin burned the remains of the Dark Lord, who had turned one of their own into a traitor; and on whose order many had lost friends or family. Like the head of department, who observed the flames with grim satisfaction.

o ~ O ~ o

_Oak Grove Memorial Garden_

_Godric’s Hollow, England_

The last tunes of _‘In Loving Memory’ _had faded away, ending the service, and the majority of guest started to leave. They had chosen the song because it was one of Lily’s favourites.

Some said their goodbyes to Roslyn and her godfather, but most of them just left quietly.

“Do you want to go, Corbillat?” Severus asked after sensing that the little girl was in dire need of sleep. She simply nodded, still refusing to speak.

He suppressed a sigh, telling himself to give her time, but all the same he prayed for confidence. Or at least patience. Severus had just turned his back to the graves, someone laid a hand on his shoulder in a manner that was supposed to be comforting.

“May I speak with you, my boy?” Dumbledore requested.

“What is it, Headmaster? Rose is tired,” he added when she buried her face against the wool of his coat. The _I am as well,_ was left unsaid.

“We will make it quick then. You already know Mrs Molly Weasley, I presume,” he stated and the ginger haired woman moved to stand next to Dumbledore. Leaving her numerous children to stay with her husband a few paces away.

“Of course,” he barely managed to suppress the exhaustion in his voice. Her family, although not currently members of the Order were firm supporters of the headmaster.

“She volunteered to take Rose in,” Dumbledore continues, smiling as if he had just announced, he was bringing Christmas early, and judging by the look on Molly´s face, for her that was indeed the case.

Severus unconsciously tightened his hold on his goddaughter, “_Take her in_?” he repeated hollowly.

“The child needs a mum,” the woman stated beaming, “And little Rosie gets lovely brothers and a sister to play with.”

“Her mother is Lily Potter and no one will ever be able to replace her, _Mrs Weasley,_” Severus's voice was cold as ice, “And why do you think you of all people should raise her? You haven’t even seen her until today!”

For a moment, both Dumbledore and Molly looked astounded by his words, but she recovered quickly.

“But a _Death Eater_ would make such a great father!” Her tone dripped anger and accusation, “Headmaster, you said we could take the girl home now!”

“I’m sorry for this misdirection,” Severus deadpanned while glaring daggers into Dumbledore, who at least had the decency to look ashamed, even just slightly. “But Rose will live with me. And that is not open for discussion.”

Mrs Weasley was furious, “What do you have to give her? Nothing! You -” She started to say something else and was suddenly cut off by a young girl.

“Go away!”

It made Severus pause when he finally heard the voice he had missed so dearly these past days. Rose looked from Dumbledore to Molly and back, tiny hands holding on to her godfather like a lifeline, speaking with all anger a 6-year-old was capable of.

“Young lady -” but the matriarch didn’t go any further as Roslyn shot her a glare that nearly rivalled one of her godfather’s.

“I don’t like you and I will not live with you! So go _away_!”

On her last word, Molly’s hair turned grey.

o ~ O ~ o

_Early evening_

_Spinner’s End_

_Cokeworth, England_

Severus arrived at his house in a much better mood than when he had left. Roslyn was still more quiet and withdrawn than since before Halloween, but she talked again and it was as comforting as a phoenix’s lament for her godfather. However, the look on Molly’s face as she was discovering her new hair colour was a memory to enjoy for a long time.

“I must admit that was quite the trick, Rose,” Remus stepped out of the fireplace, flicking ashes off his worn suit. He had come along since Severus was still the potion maker of the Order and a certain werewolf needed his wolfsbane potion. After hesitating for a moment and asking Roslyn if she was alright with it, he left them both in the kitchen to get the crate from his lab in the cellar. He smiled to himself, he could hear Rose talking with Remus until he reached the lower half of the staircase. She seemed to like him already. Another person in her life to trust would be a good thing...

Severus was more at a loss than he cared to admit, suddenly being “promoted” from godfather to... only parent? It was strange and he thanked every deity for Narcissa. She had helped him a great deal these past days and he had even managed to spend a little time with his other godchild, Draco, who already looked so much like his father...

By now he was in his lab and sat down for a moment.

Lucius and Lily, his best friends, were both dead now – because of him no less – and he missed them dearly. Taking a deep breath he forced himself up again, almost leaving the crate behind, but remembering it at the foot of the stairs.

“Your potion,” he announced back in the kitchen.

“Is it me or does Rose look a little sick?”

That was really not what he had wanted to hear and he tried to hide his worry. He sat her down on the kitchen table, eying her critically. She seemed exhausted now, instead of merely tired and her skin was cold as ice to his touch.

“How are you feeling, Corbillat?”

“Not so good...”

“Are you hurting? Did you eat something unusual, or play with anything strange you found?”

He already racked his brain on what could’ve caused such a state, but there was nothing, not anymore at least, of any potential danger for a child in the house. He had made sure of it.

“I’m cold… and my head hurts here,” she touched her curse scar.

“Remus, please fire-call for Poppy and then Alana Flint, she’s a healer at St. Mungos,” he asked him as calm as he could, not wanting to scare Roslyn, and hoping dearly that there was no reason to be afraid.


	4. A scar, a sigil, a curse

_Late night_

_ Spinner’s End_

_Cokeworth, England_

“Alana?” Severus questioned when the healer sighed deeply. He had heard that sigh too often in his life and it had always meant defeat to the inevitable; waiting for death to take what was his.

The thought of losing Roslyn was something he could not handle right now, so he would not dwell on it. Not while her heart was still beating.

Alana Flint and Madam Pomfrey had spent hours treating his goddaughter, using various potions, rune stones and what else might work. But her condition steadily grew worse.

The open fire and heating spells provided warmth to the point that the room was almost unbearable hot, but Rose was still suffering from advanced hypothermia. And the slight headache had hours ago transformed into agonizing migraine.

She was in a magic induced sleep, free of pain. However, with the current situation, it was questionable if she would ever wake up again. Severus loathed seeing her hurt and unconscious.

Narcissa, who had come shortly after Madam Pomfrey, gave his shoulder a soft squeeze. She had left Draco in the care of the house elves and had insisted on staying, while Remus had reluctantly gone back to his flat. Her pureblood mask was firmly in place, but her worry and fear leaked through her mental shields.

“Severus, Narcissa...” Alana started to speak only to stop herself. Countless times she had told family members of the imminent death of a loved one. But while she had not seen them often after their graduation, she still counted both among her friends. They deserved more than empty phrases and her hiding behind professionalism.

“I don’t know what causes her condition,” she finally said, “There are traces of dark magic, but I can’t find its source. Without a miracle... Roslyn will not survive past sunrise. I am so sorry.”

A harsh sound, a cross between a sob and a cry of protest came from Narcissa, who rushed over at the child’s side. Severus stayed where he was: “Poppy?”

She looked at him, tears in her eyes: “There is nothing left we can do...”

The healers were mostly ignored whilst speaking about what they could do for a painless pass over and then the potions master asked them both to leave a short while later.

Narcissa held Rose in her arms, rocking her softly and singing lullabies, so hushed they were barely audible.

And the little girl’s godfather had a horrible vision of another funeral to come. The sickening, heavy smell of rosemary. A coffin so small it would weigh nothing, and yet tons. Stony faces of grieving people... Euphemia, Régine, Alice and Frank, Dumbledore, Moody, Régine -

Severus frowned. He had not seen the testy half-French woman in years; why was her name so persistently haunting his thoughts now of all times?

_Because her father is one of the most accomplished healers in the magical world._

Narcissa looked up with a mix of surprise and worry when her friend suddenly swore violently, shooting up from his brooding place and rushing, well... _somewhere._

She remained where she was, “Corbillat, Severus and I are not going to give up on you.” She murmured softly, “So stay strong until he finds a way to help you.”

In another room Severus rummaged around in one of many cupboards for the next to never used telephone and -

“Finally!”

**Sylvan Academy of Natural History and Magical Arts**

_~ Curiositas est claves sophia ~_

The business card had turned yellowish over time but the phone number on the back was legible. And hopefully still valid. Sylvan Academy was not as old as Hogwarts, but its location was just as secured. This number was the only way to get in touch with Régine. That and owl-post, which would never reach her before...

The unruly muggle device set up and working, he waited for someone to pick up, shoving his worries behind Occlumency barriers for now.

_“It’s around 10 a.m. there, why does this take so long?” _he impatiently thought by himself.

A voice like sunlight interrupted his internal ranting, “Sylvan Academy, Assistant-Principal Régine Blanchard.”

Now to the difficult part: “Good morning, Régine. I -”

“Severus?” she sounded more surprised than angry about his call. Would wonders never cease? “Did something happen? Is Roslyn alright?”

“No. She is sick and- and dying and all I have are two healers at their wits end. I...” he paused, swallowing all his pride, “I need your help. Please.”

Unknown to Severus, the young woman was already furiously scribbling up a note for her father. Hearing him _plead_ with her told her how dire the situation was.

“Tell me the address and I’ll come over in a moment.”

“Spinner’s End, Cokeworth, England,” he answered, relive audible in his voice.

o ~ O ~ o

Régine Blanchard’s heart was still beating violently when she hung the phone up.

She had barely processed that Lily was dead. As rocky as their relationship had been at times, she had loved her as a sister.

“Glîr!” Her kea flew from his perch at her call and landed on her arm, picking up the note for Lord Thannor with his beak.

“Take it to father.”

Régine had grabbed a handful of floo powder before the rustling of feathers had faded in the distance.

_“Creator, I hate this!”_ She thought as she disappeared in a flash of green flames.

o ~ O ~ o

Severus paced circles in the kitchen, getting more restless with every passing minute, _“What is taking you so long? Hurry up!”_

As if some higher power graciously consented to not put another stone in his way, he heard the familiar rushing sound from the fireplace.

“I -” Régine coughed trough a mouthful of ash and soot, “I hate the floo network! Where is Rose?”

“The master bedroom, I’ll show you.”

“You are not going to faint on me, are you?” She asked slightly worried. He was even paler then last time she saw him, black rings under his eyes, and overall looked ten years older than his age.

A glare was all the answer she got for that question. It was strangely comforting.

Narcissa glanced up when Severus came back with company, Rose still in her arms, “Thank you for coming.”

“Lady Malfoy – Now let me take a look at the little one. If it is as bad as you said, we must bring her to my father.”

Régine started to examine her patient, immediately picking up the trace of darkness. “I found lingering magic of possible malignant origin.” She told them as she rummaged a moment in her bag. “Boil water and add the potion,” she handed him a vial, reading ‘_Essence of Athelas’, _“Turn this room into a sauna.”

“How much?”

“All of it,” she answered without hesitation. She had already decided to run diagnostics and stabilise the child’s condition as fast as possible before taking her to her father.

Soon the air was damp and every breath tasted like the fresh and slightly sweet Athelas.

“I have good and bad news.” Régine stated a few minutes later, “I know what’s wrong with Rose.”

“But?” Severus prompted, mentally preparing for the worst.

“She is possessed by a _Hâtriënya_. Her own magic is fighting it and... that is too much of a strain for her.”

“What kind of... curse is it?” Narcissa had never heard of the term and as a born Black she found this quite disconcerting.

Régine looked at Severus, “You may know it as _Horcrux._”

He visibly paled, “Are you certain?”

Her face was grim, “Yes.”

“What is that thing and, more importantly, can you help Rose?” Narcissa asked, holding the child closer.

“Darkest magic,” Severus explained, “It’s a soul fragment, created through murder and used to become immortal. Usually they are hidden in an object, not a living creature, let alone a person!”

Narcissa’s eyes grew wide, “Voldemort! This vile thing is a part of him!”

“Maybe, under different circumstances it could coexist rather than trying to take over the body,” Régine theorized, “But Rose’s magic is not accepting its presence. I stabilized her, we must bring her to the Academy and father will be able to help her.”

The younger woman thought Severus somehow remedied to her eyes when she saw how gently he handled the small frame of his goddaughter. Her skin had turned a nasty shade of greenish-grey, spreading out from the curse-wound. They were running out of time.

“Let’s take the Floo. I managed a direct connection and my father will be waiting for us,” what Régine did _not_ voice was her fear that even the famous Lord Thannor might not be able to save her. Nonetheless, she went through the fireplace first, travelling to the heart of the Sylvan Academy.

“Can we really trust them, Severus?” Narcissa asked slightly unsure.

“Let me say it this way; I can’t think of anyone else that will able to help her.”

o ~ O ~ o

_The shrine_ had been named so with the founding of the school, nearly three-hundred and fifty years ago. The term remained, even after the building served no longer religious purposes.

Lord Thannor, principal of Sylvan Academy, stood a short distance from the fireplace when Régine stumbled out of the green flames.

The resemblance between father and daughter was obvious; same lithe, small stature, pale-golden hair and ice-blue eyes. Her skin was slightly more tanned, testament to her, for the most part, work outside.

“Welcome back,” he greeted and even though he smiled, she could sense his concern, “Our patient?”

“Arriving any moment, along with her guardians.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, “Trustworthy guardians I hope?”

“…Their… life stories might suggest otherwise, but they deeply care for Roslyn.”

“Helping a child in need is a noble thing. But I will not stand by to see the safety of the academy compromised!” he told her sternly.

“Dumbledore trusts them; shouldn’t that be enough for you?” Régine snapped back at his remark.

He didn’t get a chance to retort, because first Narcissa and a few moments later Severus carrying Rose stepped out of the fireplace.

Thannor’s face did not give anything away, but his eyes went cold when he saw the potions master.

“My daughter will escort Lady Malfoy and Roslyn to our healing-chamber, while I have a word with _Professor_ Snape.” His voice did not leave room for discussion.

Severus handed Rose to Narcissa, despite not liking being separated from the two in unknown territory. Régine did not dare to speak up against her father, not when she had already broken several security rules, “Follow me, please.” She gave the potions master a somewhat apologetic look as they moved past him.

“You are one of Voldemort’s Death Eaters,” Thannor stated just as it was the two of them.

Severus did not question how the older wizard knew of this, _Dumbledore probably,_ he thought. _“Was,”_ he stressed the word, “Until seven years ago.”

“Really?” The principal circled him like a shark smelling blood, “Why the change of mind?”

An image of Lily flashed before his inner eyes, accompanied by her contagious laugher.

“Does it matter?”

“Don’t talk back to me, youngling! Answer!” He did not even flinching at the power Thannor radiated. He was in league with Dumbledore and Voldemort, if not mightier.

Severus would have loved to do some damage to that arrogant face, but he was probably the only one who could help Rose at this point.

“I came to see the wrong in both his goals and his actions,” he said through gritted teeth, “If you want to know more, you’ll have to rely on _his_ methods.”

“I see...” Thannor studied him intensely and Severus felt the brush of another’s mind against his own. He might be exhausted and irritated, and the constant stress started to take its toll, but using Occlumency was by now nearly a part of his character. Thanks to Dumbledore and Voldemort trying to enter his head on an almost a daily basis. Sylvan’s headmaster would not get far without the use of violence.

The wizard took a few steps closer to him, and the younger man had a comment about ‘personal space’ already on his lips when the other spoke again, “Why is no tainted magic clinging to you?”

As an answer, Severus knocked against his lower left arm, resulting in a distinctive wood-like sound.

“We might want to give that prosthetic a look at later – for now we shall see to your goddaughter’s well-being.”

He turned with a barely-there smile, walking the same way Régine had lead Narcissa.

“Why the sudden change of attitude?” Severus could not help but ask as they moved through a long corridor.

“Because the so called ‘Dark Lord’ never left one of his followers unmarked – visibly or otherwise. The wards of our Academy would have killed you the instant you set foot in our hall, if you were one of his.”

“So why the interrogation?”

“One can never be too careful.”

That was a mindset Severus could and would respect.

“But,” the healer added after a moment, “I see how worried you are. I am not so cruel to keep you away from Roslyn when she needs you most.”

“... Thank you.”

“Do not thank me yet.” Thannor replied as they entered one of the healing chambers.

It was a plain room, the only sources of light were candles placed on some shoulder-high columns. Along the stone walls stood shelves, filled with everything a healer could wish for, from boxes of dried herbs to a wide assortment of potions. The ceiling had a strange familiarity to the one of the Great Hall at Hogwarts, showing a clear night-sky that cast them in starlight.

Right in its middle was an almost altar-like bed, where the motionless form of Roslyn Potter rested.

The scene was so alike to a funeral vigil that it made Severus rush to her, taking her ice-cold hand in his own. Narcissa stood on her other side, caressing Rose’ wild hair.

Régine ran around, gathering things from the selves and preparing a cauldron, “Father, she got worse.”

He merely nodded, unimpressed by his daughter’s frantic rummaging and inspected his patients head. The curse wound was dark green by now, the blood vessels close to it were the same colour and nearly all of her face had turned a lighter greenish grey.

“It’s indeed a Hâtriënya-poisoning... This shape is unusual...” He murmured another few things into his non-existent beard the others could not decipher.

“Régine,” he addressed her so suddenly that the young woman flinched, “I need phoenix tears, Ilma-water and all of the freely given unicorn blood we have left. Then go and fetch me Tasia. And Charlotte as well.”

“Can we not help in some way?” Narcissa asked with a desperate edge to her voice.

“Your assistance is essential for the next step – who of the two of you has the closest relationship to Roslyn?”

“Severus.” “I do.”

Pleased about the unison replies he looked at Narcissa first, “Concentrate on her magic. Try to smooth it. The Hâtriënya is... _tangled_ with it and we need to separate them carefully.”

“I can do that.”

“Professor Snape, you are well-versed in Occlumency. Use your barriers for her mind.”

“I’m ready,” Severus replied without missing a beat.

“You would have no protection from her thoughts,” Thannor warned him, “It is always tricky with children and I don’t know if the curse is already influencing her. It will probably be very dangerous. I improvise this healing and I can’t make any promises.”

“But there is no alternative.” It was not a question.

“Not a reasonable one,” the healer admitted.

“I will begin now.”

“Do that.” He gave the younger man a short nod of respect and concentrated on Rose again.

Severus slipped easily into the routine of meditation, slowly tuning out his surroundings. Régine’s hurried steps as she left the room. Thannor’s low mumbling. The comforting smell of herbs and other potion ingredients...

He concentrated on Rose’ hand in his own, visualising how his barriers would rebuild themselves around her.

Suddenly he felt weightless, like when one missed a step going down the stairs. He blinked and the scenery changes from one second to the next.

“... Damn.”

He stood in the middle of a wide field of... clouds? Yes, white clouds and he tried not to think about how they should carry his weight. Over him was a night sky, the stars shining diamonds on blue velvet. Severus did a double take at them, noticing the constellations were not right somehow. He glared at one looking almost like Orion, finally able to make sense of it.

“Sure, Lily, read your daughter _Lord of the Rings_,” he murmured amused, setting off walking in one direction, “No chance that in her mind fictional stars will be more important than the real ones!”

The landscape changed only slightly as it passed, a lonely swing, an empty bookshelf overgrown with weeds...

“If you could search for Roslyn’s mind castle and cut loose the strands of the Hâtriënya that have taken hold there you would be of great help, Professor Snape,” said Thannor’s voice from... everywhere actually.

“Thank you for the narration, I thought only to take a nice stroll!” Severus bit back sarcastically.

“Well, you’re walking in the wrong direction.”

“...Figures – What is the right way?”

“Look for a trail of ice or frost. It will get colder the closer you are to her castle.”

Severus frowned. It was pleasantly warm and no trace of ice was visible anywhere. Why could he not see his destination? A mind castle or palace was usually rather big and Roselyn was still a child, the landscape of her mind should not be so vast yet...

Something tugged at his sleeve.

If not for all the other strange things around him, he would have been surprised to see the small raven nipping at his robe. It had an unusual colouring, too: Black feathers, but the tips looked like dipped in gold and it looked at him with big, green eyes.

“...Corbillat?”

“Did you find it already?” Thannor’s voice asked, making the small critter blink and looking around.

“No. But a raven hatchling found me.”

“That might be Roslyn’s creature token.”

“Creature token?” Severus was rather confused by now, but still followed the bird when it tugged at him with all his power (which was more symbolic than anything, considering its size). An imaginary raven was as good as any lead right now.

“Some scholars call them totems or ‘Inner animals’. It is the mundane or magical animal a person feels the strongest connection to. There are also several parallels in character and behaviour. They manifest as the Animagus of the caster and usually as their Patronus as well. On this note -”

A female voice, one that Severus didn’t recognize, interrupted the principal: “Thannor.”

“Yes?”

“It’s not the time for lecturing.”

“Of course, you are right.”

“And who are you?” Severus asked with more bite than necessary, mostly because it was getting freezing cold.

“Charlotte Van Kirk.” She answered, “I have taken over for Narcissa. Pleasure to meet you.”

“This is really stretching the term ‘meet’,” he replied. Wondering how much time had passed since the woman and Narcissa ‘You may call me Lady Malfoy’ were on a first name base.

Van Kirk merely chuckled, rather unaffected by his dry remark.

The raven – Rose’s raven seemed sure of its goal. It led Severus over a frozen bridge to an open courtyard and a nested looking building that was covered in snow and icicles.

“The Horcrux is weakened.” Thannor announced, sounding elated, “Get rid of the traces in the palace and it’s as good as gone.”

“Now, where is she?” Severus felt rather stupid, asking an imaginary animal questions as it flew circles around him.

_Searching it is..._

The door closest to him was frozen shut, but a generously applied Incendio took care of that problem.

“Rose?”

The hall was empty, but noises came from a room on the left side. It was a rather big playroom, not much of the furniture could be seen through the thick layers of ice. Two children sat on the floor, apparently playing chess. One was unmistakably his goddaughter, but the other... A boy about six or seven years old, sporting dark hair and clothes that almost qualified as rags.

“Corbillat?”

“Sev!” She jumped up upon seeing him, running over to give him a hug. She felt colder than a ghost.

“I missed you! Without Tom I would’ve been so lonely!”

The boy looked at him and those crimson eyes belonged to one person only.

“You will not hurt her anymore!” he snarled furiously.

“Sev?” Rose seemed disturbed by his fit of anger, but still held onto him.

“You need to tell... _Tom_ to go now.” He all but ordered: “And you have to mean it.”

“W-What? Why? Tom is my friend!”

Didn’t he know this loyalty all too well? Both Lily and James even more so would’ve gone through fire for their loved ones.

“Trust me, Corbillat,” he told her softly, hoping his word was enough for her, “I would not ask it of you for nothing.”

“Why do you want me to leave?” Tom asked, lips trembling slightly, “I’ll be alone!”

“You... you have to,” Roslyn’s voice was full of trepidation, “Please go.”

Darkness pooled around the boy, his irises beginning to glow, “You said we would be friends!”

Rose had tears in her eyes, her knuckles turned white where they were fisted into Severus’ robes, “You still have to go, Tom.”

“You’re a liar!”

“I SAID GO!”

“That’s it!” Severus was barely able to make Thannor’s words of triumph out over the sudden roar in his ears, “It’s dying.”

_We made it,_ was his last thought before he passed out.


	5. Sweet is the memory of a distant friend

_8th November 1986_

_Sylvan Academy_

_Steward Island, New Zealand,_

Severus felt strangely hangover and rested at the same time when he woke. He sat up slowly with his head spinning and took an overview of the unfamiliar room; his gaze landed almost immediately on his goddaughter.

Rose slept peacefully in a large bed, looking as healthy as before Halloween, despite the large patch on her face. Lord Thannor, who stood next to the girl’s bed, looked up at the rustling of sheets, “Are you gracing us with your presence again?”

“So it seems – How is she?”

The healer smiled, “The Horcrux is gone. Rose will need another few days of bed rest, but she was already awake earlier. In two weeks she should have made a full recovery - I request that you leave her in our care for that period of time.”

“... Thank you, Lord Thannor. Two weeks sound fine.”

“You are quite welcome, Mr Snape. If you’ll allow me now,” he came over, giving the younger man a quick check-up, despite his protests that he didn’t need any fussing.

“You were mentally exhausted, passed out and slept for forty-five hours. Bear with an old healer.”

“Try not to resist, he won’t let you out of his clutches anyway,” an amused voice stated just as Severus’ pupillary response was tested.

“Speaking from experience?” he asked, blinking against the white spots in his vision caused by the bright light.

He knew the voice already, Charlotte Van Kirk, but now he saw the person it belonged to. She looked around his age, with her hair in a loose braid, and her eyes had a mischievous gleam.

“Once he all but tied me to the sickbed for three weeks! One might think healers go easy on their apprentices, but no...”

“You had burns caused by dragon fire,” Thannor replied in a tone similar to Severus’ when he had to bear with his student’s hare-brained ideas. But much more fond.

“Emberley didn’t mean it!”

“One of these days I need to thank Newt for _ruining_ twelve years worth of my adepts...” he murmured, his lips twitching into a rueful smile. Severus had taken advantage of the diversion to stand up and used a few spells to take care of his crumbled robes.

“Where is Narcissa?”

“She went to get some stuff for you and James; she should be back any moment.”

“Excuse me?” he threw her a confused glance. Did he hear her wrong or had she just talked about the man as if he had not been murdered?

Thannor understood, “Your goddaughter asked us – meaning Charlotte, Lady Malfoy and myself – to not call her ‘Rose’ or ‘Roselyn’, but ‘James’. But she refused to explain her request.”

“It _is_ her second name,” Severus mused out load, “And her father’s...”

His goddaughter was sleeping, questions could wait for later.

“You are still very pale,” Charlotte noted concerned.

“You’re one to talk.” Her skin was almost white like milk.

“My Grandma was a vampire,” she replied with a smirk, “What’s your excuse?”

The door was pushed open, stopping him from answering. It was Narcissa.

To call her mood joyfully would’ve been an understatement. She hugged Severus (ignoring his protest, as per usual) and rambled on about how things were going back in England. Apparently she trusted Lord Thannor and Van Kirk, as if she threw her pureblood-mask out of the window like that.

“Draco misses you and Ro- _James_,” she said, getting his full attention again, “But I didn’t want to bring him until you are both alright.”

“I am fine,” he insisted for what feels like the hundred time. “But you are right, give... Corbillat another few days to adjust. They will be able to wreck havoc together soon enough.”

“She will need proper clothing to do that,” Narcissa took a small pile out of her handbag, undoubtedly only the finest and most expensive looking garments his goddaughter possessed.

“On this note: I could not enter your bedroom.” There is a sort of irritated fondness in her eyes about his understated paranoia, “You should go and pick up new clothes. Maybe relax for a few hours. I will be here,” she added, guessing his chain of thoughts, “She is still more sleeping than awake. And you can’t do much for her if you don’t take care of yourself.”

“... Fine!”

The floo trip was nauseating as always, and the house greeted him with deafening silence.

Half an hour later Severus, hair still damp and dressed in a clean set of dark green robes, was wandering into the room his goddaughter had claimed for herself. Next to the one that was Draco’s, if one trusted the name the boy had painted on the door himself.

Her clothes were stored in the small armoire, some of her toys laid scattered on the floor and a stack consisting of most of her books was on the night stand.

Narcissa, Remus and himself had been at the Potter’s house – the ruin that remained of it. They had taken the belongings of his goddaughter, a few mementos of her parents, like the thick photo album Lily had created lovingly and the snitch James had kept (read: stolen) from his time at Hogwarts...

Had all this actually happened in eight days?

The worst was that Severus had no idea what to do now. Part of him wanted to drown in sorrow and self-pity over losing his best friend, but he had Rose who depended on him. Likely more than she even knew.

_A horcrux..._

That Voldemort would create one with the murder of his prophesied adversary made a cruel kind of sense. His hunger for power had been obsessive, born out of his driving force, his wish for immortality. A creation of a horcrux was a more or less direct way to achieve his goal. Though Severus didn’t knew details, he was aware such rituals required… _preparations_.

He did his best to not dwell on the images of scattered blood, torn flesh and the shining of unrestrained insanity in crimson eyes.

But certainly he had not intended to bind a part of his soul to a person, let alone Rose.

This all brought up the question of the century: How many Horcruxes had Voldemort already created beforehand, that the essence of his being had all but shattered with his ‘death’?

At least one more, which made the Dark Lord’s survival all but a certainty. Sooner than later he would crawl back to haunt them again...

As if on cue his protective charms went off.

He cursed inwardly, but at the same time felt thankful that his goddaughter was far away and safe. Quiet like a shadow he moved to the front door, casting a silent _Observo_. The spell turned the scratchy wood transparent on his side and amplified the sounds outside for him to hear.

His intuition had been right: Death Eaters, five of them, doing their best to tear down the defences of the house.

Severus recognized Nott, Crabbe and Avery with a quick glance and a moment later Goyle when he turned around to face the door. But the real problem was the one giving orders.

The crimson mask he wore marked him as one of Voldemort’s three lieutenants. One had been Bellatrix Lestrange, who would hopefully rot in Azkaban for the end of time. He knew the other two by movement only, as the concealment distorted the voice of the bearer. But their taste for violence and blood was unmistakable. And Dumbledore had suspected that they had some kind of connection to the ministry, one reason the Order had cut almost all ties with the magical government years ago.

Severus thought his course of action through, conjuring a messenger orb, “Spinner's End. Four Death Eaters. One Lieutenant,” he dictated, sending it off to the headquarters.

He sent a second one to Narcissa, telling her to get Draco out of the manor and to Sylvan immediately.

For now he needed to stand his ground alone - Wouldn't be the first time. A sly smirk made its way to his face, when various plans started to form in his mind. They wanted to beat him at his own game at his home court, so to speak?

Severus had kept Spinner’s End for a reason after his parents had abandoned it and certainly not because of all the happy childhood memories. Living there between his graduation at Hogwarts and his mastery in France, he had gone a bit... _crazy_ with enchanting pretty much anything and everything from attic to cellar. His defences would hold for another hour at last, that gave him some time to -

The foundations of the house shook when the lieutenant broke down several wards at once in his frustration.

_… The day really keeps getting better, _he thought darkly.

All the doors closed at his silent command and disappeared behind concealing charms, the lights dimming until he could barely see anymore. He stood waiting in the shadows of a high cabinet.

A load bang rang through the entrance hall, followed by splinters of wood, a few sad pieces of the front door staying on the hinges. Five figures clad in black robes came in, masks over their faces.

“What kind of house is this?” Goyle’s deep voices asked dumbfounded, when they found themselves in a fairly small room with a conspicuous lack of doors.

_How can one wizard be so dense? _Severus thought by himself, while the lieutenant threw a quick curse at him to shut him up, “It’s the home of our former master spy - Why do you expect anything less?”

“The traitor is long overdue,” Avery hissed out vindictively, “An eye for an eye...”

The right side of his faces was marred with two Sectumsempra scars, one over his blind eye. Courtesy from the potions master, who currently really wished that he would’ve aimed a tad more to the left.

“Revelio!” The spell would usually not have worked here, but Severus let three doors reveal themselves anyway.

“Good, let’s split up and get them!” Avery said with glee in his voice, “The order could be arriving soon.”

“Shut up, you idiot!” The lieutenant hissed, “These walls have ears!”

“What does it matter? - He won’t be living to tell anyone and she is but a child.”

“Still. - Avery, Goyle, you take the right one. Nott, Crabbe the left,” No questions were asked, when he made his way to the door at the far end of the hall.

They could have searched the house together, but in their minds Severus did not pose enough of a threat to them. The very same arrogance had Voldemort believe that a trusted follower of his would _never_ betray him to save the life of a _‘mudblood’_.

But things turned out in his favour, so he did not dream of complaining. The pairs were merely through the doors when they fell shut and disappeared again.

o ~ O ~ o

To call the atmosphere at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix (and of the ministry’s Aurors, for the time being) tense, would’ve been an understatement.

Remus was at the brink of losing his patience, so his next words, after having a fruitless conversation for over an hour, were almost a growl, “Alastor, I want the truth, _now_!”

The old fighter looked exhausted, but the werewolf suppressed the flare of empathy. He needed to know why Sirius was in Azkaban, without a proper trial no less!

“My boy, please sit down,” Dumbledore asked kindly. Of course now the old wizard had to show up.

“I want the truth, Albus,” he repeated, throwing a pleading glance at his former teacher. A man he looked up to above everyone else.

Dumbledore sighed, and it sounded as if the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders, “Remus, you need to trust me.”

“Like we should trust you with taking Rose away from Severus?”

The warm eyes lost their twinkle, “I am still not convinced that being under his care is best for her. The matter is not yet decided.” His voice sounded kind, but the steel behind the words was unmistakable. Another tense moment later his expression softened again, “As for Sirius, we are afraid, he is the traitor in our number.”

The effect wouldn’t have been greater if Dumbledore had announced that he would take Voldemort’s place as Dark Lord. All colour drained from Remus’ face, “That's not true! Peter was the secret keeper!”

“We think they both betrayed us, my boy,” the headmaster spoke softly, his words tearing apart what was left of Lupin’s world, “Pettigrew later, but Sirius... maybe he was raised to infiltrate the order. His family is rather cunning, and his parents were outspoken supporters of Voldemort, his younger brother even a Death Eater. Just think it through; Peter as the secret keeper, to be killed when he lost his uses while Black would still be among us to strike at any given time.”

“No.” Remus thought about all those years of friendship. All that could not be a lie. “No way!” he said, “I refuse to believe this... _conspiracy theory _of yours without proof! Sirius deserves a fair trial and -”

“Dumbledore!” Alice burst into the room, the severity of the situation evident in her voice, “There’s been a breakout from Azkaban!”

“What happened?” All three man rose, hands already reaching for their wands.

“We don't know yet, but the prisoners are rioting. We need to go _now_.”

Before Dumbledore could give out his orders, a messenger orb appeared in the room. They all recognized a certain potion master’s voice, “Spinner’s End. Four Death Eaters. One Lieutenant.”

“Alastor, you take Remus, Alice, Frank and Aberforth and go help Severus and Roslyn - I’ll gather the others and go to Azkaban. Once you have everything under control, bring Rose here and follow us to the prison.”

Everyone nodded - You don't question your leader in the midst of battle.

o ~ O ~ o

**“ARGH!”** A scream of agony accompanied by the sound of breaking bones rang through the living room. Avery and Goyle had been crushed under one of the massive bookcases.

It pained Severus to treat his beloved books like this, but it was the easiest way to deal with them. He shot a quick stun and binding jinx at both Death Eaters before quietly moving on.

Nott would be more difficult to handle, he was clever and unlike the others not blinded by revenge fuelled blood lust, not to speak of the lieutenant. The latter was in the library, browsing through a book on Occlumency, seemingly without care in the world or noticing the potions master stealing in the shadows.

A sudden shift in the wards drew Severus attention, but all of the newcomers were Order members if he did not misread their magical signatures. A blink of an eye later he barely managed to dodge the curse being dashed at him, and shield against the next two curses.

“I missed you, Snape,” the lieutenant's voice rang through the enormous room, the echo making it impossible to locate him with hearing alone, “I really did. You were the only one who would not crawl around all the time.”

The potions master moved silently, casting Sectumsempra right back when a Crucio was sent in his direction.

“I certainly didn’t miss you,” Severus answered, his voice dripping with venom, “Or that maniac you called _‘my Lord’_”

A violent ‘bombarda maxima’ blew up two bookcases at once, making pages falling from the ceiling like snow, “HE IS NOT DEAD!”

_The insane ones are always easy to enrage, _Severus though, frowning when more of his books were all but shredded.

“WHERE IS HE, TRAITOR?!”

And the lieutenant’s tantrum made it easy to get behind him.

“I KNOW, HE -” his voice died down mid sentence, as three stunners hit his back. He was unconscious before he crashed onto the floor.

Just as Severus turned the motionless body around, Moody and Remus burst into the room, wands raised, “What did you say to me after Dumbledore announced you as our double agent?” Remus questioned.

_“‘Delightful. Even the wolf is second guessing me’”_ he answered in the same sardonic tone he had used back then, “Your present for Roselyn on her third birthday?”

“Two stuffed animals. A stag and a doe,” Remus moved beside him, “Are you all right? Where is Rose?”

“Safe with Narcissa,” he replied, while pulling the hood and mask from his captive. Moody actually gasped when he saw the young face: “That’s Crouch’s son!"

Barty Crouch was the head of the department of magical law enforcement – The one who had authorized Aurors to use the Unforgivables and lethal force against Death Eaters. And trials he overlooked generally concluded to a life sentence in Azkaban or a Dementor’s kiss.

“I don’t care who he is,” Severus gave him a not too gentle electric shock, “I want answers.”

Crouch woke up with a start, just to realize his inability to move and Snape hovering over him like a nightmare. He held him upright, wand tip against the pulse of his throat, “Someone from the Order is a traitor - Who is it?”

They knew about Peter, now he wanted affirmation he had been the only one. No one would endanger his goddaughter any further.

“Is that the reason I’m still alive?” Crouch smirked, “But you should know, Severus, no? A traitor surely manages to recognise his own kind.” He all but spit the words at his face, cringing violently when sudden agony raged through his body. No matter how often someone was under its effect, the Cruciatus Curse never felt any less painful.

“Missed it, Sev?” Crouch was used to so much worse by Voldemort’s hands, “Babysitting isn't exactly a replacement for this kind of fun,” he seemed to mull over his own words and then smirked sickeningly. “Or is it?”

The hit from Severus made him see stars and his nose exploded with pain and blood. Not as effective as the Cruciatus Curse, but much more satisfying, at least in that situation.

Remus moved to intervene, but Moody only shook his head. This information was vital, the order needed it. One way or another.

“As you wish,” Severus produced a small vial from his robes, pouring it into Crouch's mouth after he had forced it open, “Veritaserum makes things so much easier, don’t you think?”

Remus felt shivers rake down his spine. The potions master had been on the ‘light side’ for so long, and was always so affectionate and caring when Rose was around that one tended to forget his past. Now seeing him with his icy fury surrounding him was... deeply unsettling. This was a man who had proven himself to be worthy of Voldemort’s inner cycle, even as a halfblood.

Suddenly Remus could see a lot clearer why Dumbledore didn’t want an easily influenced child to be raised by such a man.

“Who is the traitor among the Order of Phoenix?” Severus asked again, pulling his hand from Crouch’s mouth, “And what is their relation to Voldemort?”

The Death Eater seemed to fight the effect, but not for more than a mere second, “It’s Black. He is our Lord’s first lieutenant.”


	6. Two sides of a blacken coin

_It’s Black. He’s Voldemort’s first Lieutenant. _The words rang in Remus’ head like a mocking laugh.

**“Liar!”**

Severus and Moody had to hold him back together, barely managing. The week around full moon was a bad time to rile a werewolf up.

“Get a grip on yourself!” the potion master hissed at him.

“He -”

“Yes, I’m not deaf! But it’s neither helping us nor Sirius if you shred him to pieces. As much as he deserves it!”

Moody cuffed the still stunned Crouch when he deemed it justifiable to let go of the younger man, “Save the discussions for later - We are needed at Azkaban!”

“What happened?”

“Break out,” Remus answered simply. Meanwhile Aberforth and the Longbottoms had found their way through the labyrinth that was Spinner’s End, securing the four Death Eaters on the way.

“We took Nott and Crabbe out, Goyle and Avery… well, remind me to never make you angry,” the younger Dumbledore-brother sounded more grimly amused than anything else.

“Severus! Are you alright? Where is Rose?” Alice somehow managed to get it all out with just one breath.

“James,” he corrected without thinking, gathering confused looks. “She wants to be called ‘James’. She is safe. Narcissa is taking care of her.”

“At Malfoy Manor?” Moody asked further, raising Severus’ suspicion.

“Why the questioning?”

“Dumbledore ordered to bring her to headquarters.”

“She is safer where she is right now,” he replied testily, not at all happy with the headmaster’s further attempts to have his goddaughter in his field of influence again.

“You’re bleeding,” Remus stated lowly, as he realized that the copper-like smell came from the potions master, not (only) Crouch.

“Just a scratch.” His left shoulder and side had been hit by some wooden splinters caused by the bombarda maxima, but there were more important things right at the moment.

o ~ O ~ o

Azkaban was a battlefield.

At the apparation point curses flew back and forth - Severus had to pull Remus out of line or the Order would've found themselves one werewolf short.

“Don’t stay close to me,” he told Remus solemnly and threw a fiendfyre in the direction of the Carrow-twins. Open battle was not his preferred form of fighting, but alas, it could not be helped right now.

He flew a short distance to Dumbledore’s side. The old man was a force in battlefield, a hex from him and a group of convicts dropped to the ground out cold. “My boy, how reassuring to see you unharmed,” the older wizard greeted him without missing a beat, while Severus was caught in a vicious duel with another Death Eater.   
“Likewise, Headmaster”.

Up to that day the prison had held over 150 criminals, not only Voldemort’s followers. Some who had broken the laws about experimental magic, violent convicts, a few of Grindelwald’s remaining Reapers…

And the vast majority of them stood against a decimated Order of the Phoenix and a bunch of rookie Aurors. But they had so far recaptured the apparation side and made good process towards the building itself.

“Severus, I want you to go in through the rear entrance” Dumbledore commanded. “Look for the guards, some may still be alive.”

“He is not going in on his own,” Moody all but growled, fixing the Headmaster with his magical eye.

“As touched as I am, Alastor,” Severus bit back, firing another chain of spells, “I’ll be faster and less likely to be noticed if I go alone”

“I was mainly thinking of your charge,” The old Auror still glared daggers at Dumbledore, while the heart of the godfather of said charge skipped several beats.

Of course he had not forgotten about her - how could he? - But Moody's words had brought up another thought:

Dumbledore was sending him into enemy territory in the midst of battle without back-up, nothing new. But this time… had the headmaster hoped that he would get killed?

How far did he want to go to get custody of her?

Shoving such uplifting thoughts aside he spoke again (after he set fire to the robes of a wizard who threw nasty curses all around him, giggling madly), “Fair point - Fenwick, move along.”

“But -”

“Now.”

“Of course!” The younger wizard followed straight after Severus, who proceed to cast a Delusion Charm on both of them and moved towards the old fortress.

The potions master remembered the smaller entrance into the walls from his only visit when Dumbledore had all but forced him along. It was a shortcut to the neglected graveyard of Azkaban.

An ‘Alohomora’ opened the door and the entry was so void of any light it looked like a gateway to the afterlife. Or to hell itself. The stone was soaked in the vile magic of the dementors who had lived here for centuries, leaving it clammy and bleak.

Severus hated the prison down to the last blackened pebble.   
The only sounds that accompanied them were Benji’s hasty strides and his low curses.

“Will you be silent,” the potion master hissed after a particularly loud swear as his companion stumbled. The younger wizard was about to shoot some selected words back when a bone-freezing cold crept closer, making their breath mist. Five dementors floated along the corridor, black lumps dragging over the floor.

“Damn,” Benji murmured, shivering slightly. Severus was inclined to agree while he tightened the grip on his wand, thinking of happy memories. But they all paled in comparison to Lily's grey, dead eyes. The sheer amount of grief and guilt forced him to physically take a step back. The rational part of his mind analyzed how the dementors had a much stronger hold on him with the recent loss of his best friend. And that he needed to cast his patronus now, if he wanted to survive. Unfortunately the rest of him was all but drowning in ice cold agony.

**“Expecto Patronum!” **

Benji’s voice cut through the fog and the brightness of his lioness chased the dementors away.

“Couldn’t cast a decent patronus for over a month after my sister was murdered,” the younger man murmured, as the other took a few shaky breaths to calm himself. “So… I won’t ask how you are. But it gets better after some time.”

Severus felt a whole new level of respect for the young Auror - and gratitude. “...Thank you,” he said simply, moving forward along the corridor with every intention to raid the fortress as fast as they could. And get off of the godforsaken cliff.

Benji still grinned ear to ear, knowing a “thank you” from the potions master was something like the equivalent of a bear hug and tearful exclamations of eternal gratitude.

“Quit pulling a face and move it, Fenwick!”

“On my way,” he answered, catching up with Severus - smile firmly in place.

o ~ O ~ o

“How many casualties?” Dumbledore asked, hours later, after all prisoners were either dead or back in the cells.

“All guards, except the commander,” Severus answered while Pomona healed a deep gash across his cheek. Sloppier than she usually worked, but others needed her attention direly.

The mission had moved smoothly, save when Benji’s Gryffindor bravery had gotten the better of him. He had challenging two Death Eaters to an open duel instead of waiting and taking care of them from behind, like Severus had planned. Hence the wound on his face.

But there was a more pressing matter: Sirius Black stood, surrounded by four guards, just a few meters away.

The Auror-turned-prisoner had fought alongside the Order and even his time in Azkaban had not lessened the finesse and power of the young duellist. But still, his fate was yet to be decided.

It was Severus who spoke, after a long gaze at the man who was not quite his friend, knowing that they needed the truth. And not only for their peace of mind. “A proper interrogation is in order, headmaster.”

Again, Dumbledore seemed reluctant, but didn’t deny the request outright, much to the relief of those present.

“We will use the commander’s rooms for this. Alastor, please accompany us.”

“How is Bambi?” It was Sirius’ first question towards Severus.

“She got sick after the funeral, but is a lot better now,” he answered, carefully watching Dumbledore’s expression. There was a flash of worry and relief in the blue eyes. But also a complete lack of surprise.

“She wants to be called ‘James’, but I haven’t had the chance to talk it though with her yet.”

“It’s a good, strong name,” Sirius noted, but seemed as confused about that as Severus had been, “But she never used it before... Still why ‘James’ and not ‘Acacia’?”

The potion master had wondered about that as well, but Sirius was already answering his own question, “Maybe she wants her father to live on by wearing his name?”

The idea made Remus smile, “It would be nice…”

Severus thought that their goddaughter really had enough on her plate without dragging her dead father along the way. He wisely kept that opinion to himself.

They reached a large room full of bookshelves and muggle weapons of several eras adorning the otherwise naked stone walls. One movement from Dumbledore's wand cleared a generous space of furniture, summoned a chair and equipped it with shackles - not unlike the ones used by the Wizengamot.

“Sit down, my boy, so we may begin.”

o ~ O ~ o

“Headmaster, this is getting ridiculous!” Severus exclaimed, after they had questioned Sirius under two truth-telling-spells and the nearly unfaultable Veritaserum.

Every time with the same result; He did not betray the Order, nor the Potters.

What the potions master was actually saying was more in the lines of:_ I am starting to think that you _want_ him in prison._

“You will allow him in James’ close proximity, not knowing if you can really trust him?”

The younger man merely glared at him, his arms crossed.

Remus was frustrated as well but tried to reason, “Let him perform an unbreakable oath and be done with it!”

Dumbledore mulled over this and then turned his eyes back to Sirius, “I would like to use a sort of legilimency on you. To review your memories.”

“And what will you be looking for?” he questioned cautiously.

“Memories that are key to who you are today. Should you have committed such a crime against magic as to break the Fidelius charm, we’ll know.”

“Which kind of spell do you have in mind, Albus?” Severus asked, face still the unfazed mask he had worn for years.

“It’s called ‘Memoria’” Dumbledore explained, turning twinkling eyes towards him again. “You are awfully distrusting today.”

“Sorry for using my head to actually think,” he murmured, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I guess Severus merely wants to know how… safe the procedure is, headmaster?” Remus asked.

At this, Sirius could not stop himself. Or his loose tongue, “Aw! Dungeon bat, I didn't know you cared!” Using one of the nicer nicknames from their Hogwarts time.

He grinned, even with the famous ‘Snape’s glare of certain death’ aimed at him, “I changed my mind: Feel free to fry his brain, headmaster.”

Sirius was awfully playing his mock-enragement, “How can you?!”

“As if the difference would be noticeable,” he shoot back.

“Enough now.” Dumbledore stopped the bickering that he very well knew could go on for ages, if he allowed it. “The charm is safe to use. But we might pull a few less than ideal memories up again - Do you agree with this, Sirius?”

“Who is _‘we’_?”

“Either Alastor or Severus as a witness and myself.”

“And if the memories show my innocence you let me go? And make sure my record is clean?”

Dumbledore shoot a glance at the ministry official that had arrived in the meantime. Without a doubt he would do as he was told by the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, “Yes, my boy. No more questions asked.”

Dark grey eyes were filled with determination, “Take them both along and do it!”

“We will begin then.”

Severus certainly did _not_ want to invade Sirius’ mind, but Dumbledore left no room for discussion or objection, raising his wand. “_Memoriae explicate!”_

The first thing they saw was light, brighter than a lumos maxima and a flash of movement around them, similar to fast forwarding memories in the headmaster’s pensive. It was not at all comparable to using legilimency. It was more vivid and obviously not as controlled. And emotions crushed relentlessly against their mental shields like waves breaking off a cliff.

Severus knew he saw the overdrawn experiences of Sirius childhood, despite not being able to make out something clear. The overly bright colours, or pitch black shadows at other times, along with the overall _chaos_ was telling.

Suddenly everything came to halt and they only had a blink of an eye to admire the dark room until:

_“**Why can't you be like your brother?! NAIL TO MY COFFIN!**” Mother’s voice is hurtful, shrill and all I can see is her. She is scaring me. Her makeup cakes her face and the sickly green eye shadow clashes with her bloodshot eyes. I can smell the expensive wine on her breath. And I try not to cry. I tried to do everything right!_

** _“USELESS BOY!”_ **

_“But -” I didn’t do anything! Please! Listen to me!_

As the slap came, Severus could almost feel it himself, knowing the sensation all too well.

The scene shifted again, like it had before, in a blur of movement. King’s Cross was their next stop. The station was unmistakable.

_I am nearly sick from the mix of excitement and terror when I board the red train. It looks so cool, and the best part is: It's going to take me far, far away from _everything_._

_I find a compartment where a boy sits alone. His black hair is a mess. “Hey, can I sit here?”_

_“Sure - Make yourself at home,” he smiles as he speaks, like he knows no care in the world. I think I want him as my first friend._

James and his daughter really looked alike, Severus noticed. With only five years between them it was obvious: The nose and chin, their hair had the same silky, yet untameable quality to it.

_“I would rather not do that,” I answer before I can properly think. I hear the slight strain on my attempt at light heartedness. I hope the other boy isn’t too attentive. “But thank you”_

_For a moment he looks strangely at me, but then the smile is back in place, “No problem – I’m James Potter."_

_The son of Fleamont and Euphemia. I know their names by heart. Like I know all the members of the pureblood houses._

_James’ family are light wizards and witches through and through. Every since my aunts twice removed, Dorea and Euphemia, married into the family my mother has hated them with passion._

_“Sirius Black.” I know I just crushed a friendship before it could even form. Must be some kind of record. I wait for a violent or at least disgusted reaction, but James only hesitates for the blink of an eye, “Nice to meet you, Sirius.”_

_Okay, what's wrong with this fellow? Did he miss the 'Who is evil?' lessons?!_

_“Excuse me?” A golden haired boy, silvery scars are scattered over his face, steps in our compartment. He looks younger than us, fragile even. “Is one of the seats free?” His shyness is downright adorable._

_“Sure! Come in!” James speaks first, inviting grin aimed at the new boy, “I’m James Potter – This is Sirius Black.”_

_“… My name is Remus Lupin,” A small smile makes its way to his scarred face. Why am I thinking that he is too good for the harsh reality of life?_

The last one to join them was Peter Pettigrew, the rat, and the Marauders were united.

This time, the blur went by quickly, revealing the familiar view of the Great Hall. Sirius Black - the child - looked shaken when Minerva called his name, his doubt and fear tangible.

Severus could see himself in the crowd of first years. And Lily smiling, right next to him.

“Back then, I was sure you would become friends.” Dumbledore stated, sounding saddened.

Maybe, the younger man thought. They had much in common - enough for James to tease Sirius and for Lily and Lucius both to annoy him with the fact.

“We didn't.” Severus finally said, “Why dwell on it?”

** _“GRYFFINDOR”_ **

“Musings of an old man, my boy…”

Red and gold were the dominant colours from now on in the memories, quite some time must have gone by, when they saw an older Sirius. Thirteen or maybe fourteen already.

_I hate Grimmauld Place more with each passing year! _

_The interior looks even more gruesome after living in Hogwarts Castle for ten months. My family is as unloving as ever, but now that I know what friendship feels like, it’s hurting me worse. _

_James, Remus and Peter are my first friends and I will never let them down! _

_Through Remus is sometimes strangely distant towards us, but we are figuring that minor issue out once we are back. At school. Together._

** _“SIRIUS!”_ ** _ The shrill voice of mother seems to shake the very foundations of the building and still makes me shudder. It’s always worse when father is on his business trips. _

_The old hag favours Regulus to no end and treats me like a house-elf - Without the chores and beheading-thing. At least up until now._

_I curse under my breath and go downstairs to the living-room, where mother sits with a guest I have not yet met. He is an ageless man, a black braid brushing just past his shoulders, contrasting against his white skin and piercing… red eyes…_

_I take a step back. The sheer power he radiates… I hear the door fall shut behind me. I am trapped and every hair on my body stands on end. Whoever he is, he is dangerous, I _know_ it._

_“Young Sirius Orion Black” That smile scares me. It’s not a good one, it promises pain. “How nice to finally make your acquaintance. My name is Tom Riddle, although I prefer Lord Voldemort.” _

The mind around them started to crack - there was no other word for it. The images bore spider webs like broken glass.

“Dumbledore…” Moody sounded wary and had a hand on his wand, even though this was clearly no battle situation.

_“Crucio!” _Severus barely managed not to flinch, hearing that sickly familiar voice uttering the unforgivable curse - and the screaming of a child.

** _“Stop it! Please! It hurts! PLEASE! STOP!”_ **

He had to suppress the urge to cover his ears; the scene seems to go on forever. And it continued until something _broke_.

Severus would have never believed it, had he not witnessed it himself: The mind had broken into two; the sharp-edged borders had a rift of black _nothingness_ between them.

His first thought was: _How is Sirius still alive, let alone coherent? _

The next one was spoken out load by Dumbledore, “Merlin’s beard! What has Voldemort done to him?” He had never heard the usually cheerful voice so full of despair.

But all they could do was watch. As the Dark Lord ‘trained’ his recruit. He had apparently intended to break the child in this certain way. He called the ‘other half’ _Sothis_ from that point on. It was sickening.

_Sirius_ had no clue about what was happening to him. Cheerfully the marauders showed Remus their Animagus transformation, telling him he was not alone any longer. It was him, who hugged the taller boy as he burst into tears of happiness.

_Sothis_ smiled as he was branded with the Dark Mark, in the wake of his first murder. The tattoo only showed on his skin. He was not even sixteen and had made his way up in the Death Eater ranks.

Sirius joined the Order of the Phoenix right after his graduation. He was there as Dumbledore presented the prophecy to the Potters and Longbottoms. Laying an arm protective around the heavily pregnant Lily, when he told them their child would likely be the chosen one.

_Born to fire, born to storm,_

_the one equal to the Dark Lord steps from beyond the veil._

_Either must die at the hand of the other,_

_for neither can live with the other alive._

_A child to those who defied him four times._

_Thriving in the mist of war, born as the seventh month dies,_

_Marked as chosen, scarred with the sigil._

_Cloaked in darkness with eyes like death they walk,_

_her blood cursed with life._

Maybe Sirius had unconsciously protected this secret judging by the blank spot on Sothis'… _half of memory_.

Severus closed his eyes for a moment. Not only were the blurry motions getting sickening, his own mind had problems keep up with how much he was seeing. Let alone comprehending it.

The sudden laughter of a baby made him look up, already knowing what he was about to see: A not yet one day old Roslyn, happily giggling in Lily’s arms.

_She is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!_

“You are right on that,” Severus murmured to himself.

_“Time to meet your godfathers, my little girl!” Lily beams at her baby, smiling at me and Snape. I guess Bambi grows up a marauder anyway, but a darn _sarcastic_ one... _

_I shoot a look at the overgrown bat and I **know** he will deny it for the rest of his life, but he **has** teary eyes! I see it **right now!**_

…_Maybe he is not a bad of a choice for a godfather. But I will be her favourite! I'll make sure of that!_

_I know I shouldn’t laugh at how much panic is in Snape’s rigid posture as Lily asks him to hold Bambi, but it's just priceless! He is holding her as if she could break at the slightest wrong touch. Because babies do that, right? Have you seen how _small_ they are?_

… _“What do you mean ‘It’s your turn’?! - NO WAY! I might hurt her!” _

_Karma is _really_ working fast today._

_But holding this precious girl in my arms… I hope I never get used to that feeling. Amazing and terrifying and overwhelming..._

_“Hello, little one. I’m Sirius. I’m the one who teaches you how to play pranks and how to scare the handsy boys away.”_

Severus knew he was all teary eyed again, but the older men graciously didn’t mention it. He’ll need a fire whiskey when this is over. And a cuddle with his goddaughter.

The next scene is familiar as well. The street where the Potters used to live.

_I kneel down as my master arrives. The trembling worm I brought with me is whimpering in the snow._

_“Sothis,” It is a greeting and inquiry at the same time._

_“Everything is prepared, my Lord. The Potters are home.” I reply, happy to give him good news. His voice holds the edge of Parseltongue; it makes me shiver in awe, no matter how often I hear him speaking it. “Wormtail! So you betrayed me as well?”_

_“No, my Lord! I would never -”_

_“Crucio!”_

_He screams and wails, and the racket he makes might be annoying, but I so rarely see my Lord torture people himself. It is a sight to behold. _

_“Well?”_

_“I-I did as I was told! I swear! I gave her the toy with the rune stone to b-block a-apparation, the floo and p-portkeys.”_

_Yes. He did that indeed. One task fulfilled in almost a year._

_He spills his secret not a minute later and our Lord smiles victoriously as we both watch the house appear which was non-existent for us until now._

_“Sothis.” I know the order and do it, ignoring the pleas for mercy, “Avada Kedavra.” The curse comes as easily to me as breathing, and the wailing stops._

_I let my mask disappear and pull my hair back again, without being able to keep myself from smiling as I bow before him. The feeling of his magic is almost tangible._

_“Very good, Sothis,” my beloved master touches my cheek and I cannot help but lean into the caress. What is there to ask for but to serve him? “Thank you, my Lord – Will you allow me to come with you, my Lord?” _

_I look forward to her end. Really, why is Sirius so fond of the hellspawn? Powerful probably, but still annoying. Even more so than the werewolf or Sirius._

_I cringe inwardly at the thought of what they did a few hours ago! First thing after getting rid of the idiot using my body is murdering that creature! And I plan to make the most of killing him._

_“No - Go meet the Order or something of the like. I will need you to reach Dumbledore, when it’s time to deal with the old man.” _

_I am saddened by the answer, but do not question it. “Of course, my Lord.” I kneel kiss the soft hem of his robe before leaving his presence._

_“Go now – We shall celebrate soon enough.”_

_Sothis laughed while Sirius cried over the dead body of his best friend - brother and everything but blood._

o ~ O ~ o

The effects of the Memoria charm end as swiftly as they began, leaving the three men unstable on their feed.

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!” Remus was beside himself with worry, holding a deathly pale and violently shaking… Sirius? Sothis? Both or just one of them?

Same graceful way to move, same grey eyes, the very same body.

And yet they were two different people.

“Severus,” Dumbledore ignored Remus in favour of collecting his thoughts, “I… presume you had no knowledge of this?” The headmaster’s voice was unusually feeble. He _felt_ weak, one of the after-effects of casting the Memoria charm.

The potions master only shook his head, not trusting his temper or tongue when he wanted to throw every curse he knew against _Sothis_. Avada Kedavra would certainly be the last. But he couldn’t do that and he hated Voldemort and his creation even more for it. He had known how twisted the Dark Lord’s mind was, but this… He felt violated by just seeing what had been done to Sirius.

The wizard in question looked shocked to his very core, “No,” he whispered, tears streaming down his face, “No!”

“Love! Speak with me!”

_It will hurt him beyond repair,_ Severus thought and a sudden wave of nausea hit him, _Merlin, how can I ever explain this to Corbillat? _

“What happened?” Remus let go of his boyfriend to step into the potions master’s field of view, “You look like you have seen a demon!”

“Not an inaccurate guess, my boy,” Dumbledore replied after a long, sad glance at his former student, while Severus remained silent.

“It’ll take time to explain everything.”

“What do you mean? He isn’t…” Remus looked at Sirius, blanching, “You are not… Don't tell me you betrayed us!”

A humourless crackle broke the following silence, making everyone flinch. It was not the warm, barking laughter the last of the Blacks was known for.

“Would you like to contribute, _Sothis_?” Severus asked, forcing up every Occlumency barrier, and his mask. He could not allow _this_ to get under his skin.

“You value your swift perception so highly, don’t you, my dear master of potions?” Sothis’ voice. Smooth, words deliberately chosen, upper class accent… “You should reconsider, since I managed to deceive you all those years. And quite successful I might add.”

“Merlin, what -” Remus made a move towards him, but Severus pulled him back, “That is not Sirius!”

“We've been in here more than three hours; polyjuice would’ve worn off ages ago - Not to mention the lack of supply in this _prison!”_

Sothis signed in mock condolence, “_Dearest_, that was not what our Severus implied - Try to keep up with the rest of class, will you?”

“…Who are you?” The question came out breathless, nearly inaudible as if Remus didn't really wanted an answer.

“How discourteous of me,” Lips made to smirk mischievously curved into an icy pureblood-smile, “I am Sothis Peruses Black.”

They left him with the ministry official and the guard-captain. There was a lot to discuss, and preferably not in... _his_ presence.

When Dumbledore had finished his explanation Remus had grown so pale, his scars no longer stood out against his skin, “That’s…” he had no words. He wouldn’t for a long time.

“The real question is what to do now, Albus!” Moody grumbled, “He has to be brought to justice!”

“And Sirius? He is innocent!”

“Another reason he would not want this manic left running around!”

Dumbledore looked very unhappy while the argument between Remus and Moody went on.

Severus pondered how and _what_ to tell his goddaughter. He had not even managed to speak with her after she had woken up again...

“How about St Mungo’s?” he asked out loud, getting the attention of the other men, “Lady Alana Flint is a mind healer, and supervises a special ward for instable patients.”

It solved several of their problems at ones; keeping Sothis under lock while sparing Sirius the horrors of Azkaban. And maybe, just maybe, the mind healers could help him.

“We would have to tell them everything… But it sounds like a solution.” Remus murmured, looking at the headmaster. The old wizard nodded after a long moment.   
“They will need more security measures, but otherwise… Alastor, how many Aurors can you spare?”

“For an around-the-clock surveillance?” He calculated silently, “Two for daytime, one for the night should be sufficient since there are the station’s own guards… But I have a condition to this: Sirius’ wand is to be destroyed.”

“But -”

“That's agreeable, Alastor,” Dumbledore interrupted Remus’ protest, “I would not have it any other way. Now,” he fixed his - again twinkling - eyes on Severus, “I believe you and Lady Flint still share a friendship?”

“I’ll floo her,” was his curt answer and he made his the way over to the fireplace.


	7. New friends and burning bridges

_Late Morning_

_8th November_

_Clinic, Sylvan Academy, Steward Island, New Zealand_

Slowly, gradually, the child in Room 13 woke up from her slumber.

For a few heartbeats she was terrified; she didn’t recognize the bed or the ceiling until she remembered just where she was.

The couch Severus had previously slept on was empty, but she reasoned that he would come back sooner rather than later. He always did.

Laid against the comfortable cushions, staring at the carved ceiling, she sorted her thoughts as best as she could, as drowsy as she felt. But the horrible headache was gone.

“You do look better,” a voice from her left remarked.

“Thanks, Tom” she watched the boy sitting next to her on the bed, “I am sorry. For telling you to leave.”

He shook his head, making his hair fall into his face, “I know I wouldn’t be here anymore if you had _really_ meant it. And... your godfather was probably right. Something I brought with me hurt you.”

“Well, Lord Thannor and Ms Van Kirk said I’ll be alright – you didn’t do it on purpose after all.”

Rolling his eyes, he replied with irritation, “You are far too nice and forgiving, James.”

“And you are far too cyn... uh... cyncal...”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘cynical’.”

“No one likes a smartass, Riddle.”

“So I have been told.” Tom and James stared at each other for a moment until they both dissolved into snickers.

“Why do you look my age now?” She asked when she could breathe normally again. When she had first seen Tom he had appeared around fifteen or sixteen, wearing a school robe of Hogwarts.

“I don’t know, but everything beyond my seventh birthday is... blurry. I can’t quite remember it.”

James was about to say something, but the door opened and Narcissa peeked in.

“Good morning, Aunt Cissy!”

“Sweetie! You’re already awake!” The woman smiled warmly at her, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Just fine.” She replied truthfully, noting that Tom was apparently not visible or audible to her honorary aunt. Another little curiosity they could discuss. “Where did Sev go?”

Both James and Tom took notice of the way Narcissa’s face briefly paled.

“Something bad happened,” Tom commented.

_‘You don’t say...’_ she thought worriedly, waiting for Narcissa to answer.

“He was needed in England and left about an hour ago, but he will come back soon. Severus is going to be so happy to see you up again.”

“And this is why I distrust adults.” Tom sounded angry, “They either keep things from you or lie...”

_‘Mum would probably call it ‘parents right of omission’, whatever that means...’_ The thought brought a drowning force of pain and grief with it, making tears stream down her face.

She barely felt how Narcissa scooped her up, holding her close and murmuring comforting words as James cried.

o ~ O ~ o

_Early evening_

_9th November 1986_

_Headquarter of the Order of the Phoenix, Manchester, England_

It had been Alice who drew the short straw, guarding the manor and children and waiting anxiously for Frank and the others to arrive. Hopefully in one piece.

She rushed towards the door, as it was opened, just to see her husband come in, “Finally!” She embraced him fiercely, “I was so worried! Are you all well?”

“A few of us are wounded, but nothing gravely, my dear” Dumbledore told her, looking every one of his 105 years, “All the guards of Azkaban were killed, but the Ministry and the Dementors have secured it for now. No one escaped as far as we know.”

Alice’s gaze wandered over the pale faces around her, noticing how worn out they all seemed, especially Remus. She wanted to comfort him somehow, but he brushed past her without a word before she could even raise a hand.

“…And Sirius?” she asked lowly, to no one in particular. Was he guilty after all? Or had he died during the attack?

Most of the Order members moved to gather in the living room; Dumbledore intended to make good on his promise to discuss everything that happen in the past few days. Severus had no intention to participate, however, and quietly went for the fireplace instead.

“My boy, where are you going?” Of course, Albus would not allow him to go without bothering him.

“_Obviously_ I am leaving.”

There was a moment of silence from the headmaster, before he smiled and the unholy twinkle was back in his eyes, “I am glad you have finally seen reason. Regardless of if she will be staying with her aunt or the Weasleys, or maybe Alice and Frank, we’ll make sure you can visit Roslyn regularly.”

Severus was torn between hitting his head against the closest wall, and just leaving. Rolling his eyes, he decided for the latter.

“But, Albus, Roslyn is not here,” Alice looked truly confused.

Dumbledore immediately understood that he did not have all the information, and he followed the potions master into the kitchen. “Severus, wait! Where is she?”

“With Narcissa and Draco.”

“But I ordered Alastor to bring her here.”

“_Ordered?_” he repeated angrily, “You have no say over her and her life!”

“I do not think you are a suitable guardian for her, my boy.”

“That is your problem, _Albus_.”

Severus grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and stepped in the flames, not listening to the older man any longer.

A nauseating, but fortunately short trip later, he entered, or more like stumbled, into his house that he had left almost a whole day earlier. His life was entirely too full of incidents at this point.

Severus healed the various small injuries he had newly acquired, took a shower and went to get some of his necessary belongings.

o ~ O ~ o

_Morning, 9th November 1986, Clinic, Sylvan Academy, Steward Island, New Zealand_

Lord Thannor could sense the discomfort of his newest patient. James Potter’s magic acted similar to a caged animal, untamed and aggressive. The combination of her powers and her temper was not likely to do the girl any favours in the future. She had had quite a bad night, and the frequent nightmares didn’t help at all. And Narcissa had messed up her own sleep schedule, despite Thannor’s warning that the potion against sun hangover (or as mundanes – or ‘muggles’ called it: _jetlag_) only worked with enough rest. She would be out cold for the next few hours.

“James, I understand how angry you are, but I need to take a look at your wound.”

She sent him a glare that reminded them – himself and Charlotte – of her godfather, her almost glowing eyes making up for her childlike face.

“Since yesterday you have checked on me eight times!”

“You were very sick and-”

“What kind of _cut_ needs to be fussed over like this? I am fine!”

The windows shattered with an ear-splitting bang, making everyone flinch. James stared wide-eyed at the broken glass, unbelieving, but she knew she had done it. Her magic had.

“Charlotte, please check if anything else was damaged,” Lord Thannor was mostly unimpressed by the outburst, he was accustomed to the tantrums of children and adults alike by now. He repaired the windows, using a single motion of his staff.

“I-I didn’t mean to...” she started weakly, “I...”

“I know,” Thannor knelt down to her eye level, “It was not your fault, James. You are stressed and scared, and I know that you are not truly comfortable with Ms Van Kirk or me. But we are here to help you.”

The knock on the door made them both look up, expecting Charlotte to have come back.

“SEV!” James ran up to him and jumped up into his waiting arms, “I missed you! I woke up and you were gone and Aunt Cissy is sleeping andnoonetoldmewhathappendand-”

“Corbillat, I am here.” Severus interrupted her when she started speaking so fast that her words blurred together, “I am sorry I had to leave. And we will talk about everything as soon as you have completely recovered.”

She almost immediately calmed down, hiding her face against his robes.

“You need to brew something...” she murmured.

“And why is that?”

“You do not smell like potions.”

Her words made him laugh and he embraced her just a little bit tighter. How could Dumbledore demand he send her away?

_“I do not think you are a suitable guardian for her.”_

Screw the old man! He would never be able to hold a candle to her parents (maybe to James, but definitely not to Lily), but she _will_ get all the love and safety she deserved.

“It’s good to see you again. And unharmed as well.” Lord Thannor said softly, with true relief in his voice. Great Britain was still far from safe and his contacts had already informed him about the battle for the hellhole called Azkaban.

“Thank you. And thank you for taking care of my goddaughter.”

“You are quite welcome.”

“I broke the windows, Sev,” James admitted lowly, “but I didn’t mean to.”

Severus threw Thannor a questioning glance and the older man mouthed “later” as an answer. Whatever it was could wait for a bit, he decided. After he had successfully talked his goddaughter into another examination, despite her annoyance, he spent the following two hours with her. James was delighted, but was so weakened, she simply fell asleep midsentence at that point. Narcissa agreed to watch over her for the time he was away.

Thankfully Charlotte was still working at the clinic and more than happy to show him the way to the principal’s office.

The campus of Sylvan Academy was a lot bigger than the Hogwarts grounds, but they had similarities; both where located near a steep coast. In Scotland it was the Black Lake, here the south pacific. While the world’s oldest magical school was a traditional Castle, its New Zealand counterpart had various straggled buildings, many of them added over the years, which gave the whole campus an open and diverse appearance. The gravel paths led between houses, greenhouses, the woods, and the nearby bay.

Severus went to the oldest part, a rather big Jacobean manor, and had no problems locating the office, it was on the main floor and quite easy to find. Another difference to Hogwarts.

“Come in.” a voice answered to his knocking. He took a moment to look around the room, it was lined with bookcases filled to the brim and still books laid on almost every available surface. Various magical items were displayed, and there was just the right amount of disorder to feel welcoming and lived in.

“Professor Snape, do come in – Tea? This Lady Grey is quite tasty.”

“Tea sounds good – You wanted to talk?”

“Yes, take a seat, so we may begin.” After they had both settled, mugs of steaming hot tea in their hands, Thannor gathered his thoughts before he began to speak, “James is... coping – for the moment. There are two important issues she must face in the foreseeable future: She needs stability to heal properly. Too much has happened in too little time, but the murder of her parents and her near-death experience _will_ catch up with her. It would be best for her to start seeing a mind-healer right away instead of waiting for inevitable fallout.”

Severus nodded, avidly listening to everything Thannor explained. Mental health was not quite his field of expertise.

“As James told you earlier, she broke some windows. What happened is that she was very agitated and a bound of accidental magic shattered almost every piece of glass not only in her room, but the whole floor.”

“...Should I be impressed or worried?” Severus had already witnessed countless examples of his goddaughter’s power, accidental and her early tries to control her gift alike. But such a violent display had been the exception.

“Parents generally go for ‘both’.” Thannor replied dryly, “Children typically start to receive training on their eleventh birthday and onwards, it is a common theme among our communities, whether in England, New Zealand or Africa. There are quite some theories about why, varying from core development to arcane blessings, but the point stands. But James’ magic has ‘woken up’ almost five years early, without a doubt because the Horcrux attempted to possess her. She needs to start learning soon, even more so since she has a lot of power at her hands.” 

Severus sighed lowly, making the older man smile warily, “It is a lot to take in. Not for her, but for you as well.”

“I should -”

Thannor interrupted him before he could go further, “You are twenty six. You survived a war, lost people dear to you and are the sole guardian to a child. You are doing great. Some of my students your age who have yet to figure out the washing machines!”

The younger man snorted at the last comment just as the principal had intended, but grew serious, “Any recommendation for a mind-healer?”

“That depends – do you plan on teaching at Hogwarts again?”

“No,” Severus replied instantly. He needed a job; his savings could not support him and James long, but... “I can’t leave her alone for nearly nine months out of twelve. And I don’t want to.”

Thannor thought for a moment, resting the tips of his fingers against each other, “You have a mastery from the Sorbonne in Paris, am I right? And were a member of the Hogwarts staff several years.”

“Why are you asking?” 

“The war was mainly in Europe, but our Academy has lost friends and teachers.”

“... Is there a job offer coming up?” Severus inquired, too bewildered to hide it.

“We need a potions master. The job includes brewing for our clinic and independent research would be supported. Before you argue about commuting, we have flats for our employees and their families on the campus.”

“I should warn you beforehand that I am not the most gifted of teachers.”

“Why do you think so?” Thannor asked, stirring the remainder of his tea.

“I am not fit to oversee children who are too lazy or too dumb to learn.” Four years with the population of Hogwarts had taught him what to expect. And the rather small limits of his own patience.

“Currently there are only two underage pupils. The others are between seventeen and thirty; you do not have to teach someone who didn’t pass the equivalent of the OWLs at least. I won’t brag, but I am very proud of studiousness of my pupils.”

The proposal was worth consideration in Severus mind, “What about my goddaughter?”

The principle smiled now, “Part of why I offer you the position is that James would be able to attend Academy courses to get a hold of her magic. She is not the first unusual young student and certainly not the last; the teachers are all used to it. And she could see me or one of the other three mind-healers in our clinic once a week.”

“Where is the hook?”

“You have to see a mind-healer as well and, depending on their opinion, keep seeing them until they clear you. And the contract of employment includes a six month trial period, but that is standard procedure.”

“I thank you for the offer – may I think about it?”

“As long as you wish to. Should you decide to go back to Great Britain or elsewhere I will be happy to provide you with a list of suitable mind-healers and instructors for James.”

o ~ O ~ o 

_17th November 1986_

_Academy clinic, Sylvan Academy, Steward Island, New Zealand_

Severus watched avidly as his goddaughter explored the inner courtyard, delightfully pestering one of the younger teachers. Until yesterday she had followed her strict bed rest, so it was the first day for her to see other parts of the Academy. She was bundled up against the cold of New Zealand, laughing in the bright sunlight.

Tasia Nagi, the mind-healer that James had chosen as ‘hers’, was all too happy to answer all the questions her little patient had about all of the herbs and flowers growing in the clinic garden. Nagi was slightly younger than Severus, but knowledgeable, and fostering a child’s curiosity came to her as easily as breathing.

The parchment Severus had received earlier rustled in his hands, making him look at it again. A letter from a Gringotts’ account manager. It set the date for the reading of wills of Lily and James Potter for the very next day...

Severus knew he had to attend, but he didn’t want to bring Corbillat. But both Nagi and Thannor had insisted upon involving the girl in major decisions and events, which effectively meant that he had to at least ask her.

Talking about the possibility of moving to New Zealand was one thing, but taking her to the reading of her parents’ wills was... morbid in the worst kind of way.

“Sev!” He found himself with an arm full of 6-year-old a moment later, “There are sooo many plants! Do you know them all?”

“Maybe not all of them,” he answered, picking her up. She had been almost craving physical contact since he had come back nearly two weeks ago, and used every opportunity to cuddle or asked to be carried around. Who was he to deny her those small comforts?

“What did the letter say?”

He was not sure if she had always been this attentive or the experiences had somehow sharpened her instincts. Either way it was difficult to hide things, even more so since he was not used to acting reserved around her.

“It’s from Gringotts. I will go there tomorrow, because they... read your mum and dad’s testament.”

“Can I come along?”

“If you feel you need to, but you don’t have to. It won’t take long - three or four hours.”

She eyed him rather critically for a six-year-old, cocking her head to the side, “You want me to stay here?”

“I am not thrilled about you going, Corbillat.”

“Because it would make me sad...”

“In essence,” he agreed, it was easier than to explain all of his reasoning to her. But he sensed that she wanted to go anyway, “You are not released from the clinic yet. If Lord Thannor allows you to go, you can join me, alright?”

o ~ O ~ o

_18th November 1986_

_Diagon Alley, London, England_

“I was never more grateful for your skills with illusion magic,” Narcissa praised Severus while they made their way through the crowds. Blissfully unbothered thanks to a whole lot of delusion and notice-me-not charms cast on them.

Lady Malfoy was invited to the reading as well, but Draco had stayed at home, as his mother didn’t wish to expose him more to loss and death than he already was.

James felt like being carried again, which had the advantage that she could contemplate the famed Diagon Alley. Her parents had shielded her away from the world, out of (not entirely misplaced) fear and now she couldn’t decide where to look first.

“The second-hand-bookshop is still open!” Tom sounded exited, even happy to see this familiar place again. James liked the old building, it was slightly crooked, and the only things visible through the windows were giant stacks of books.

_‘We can ask Sev to look there later,’ _She had used her bed rest partly to refine her way to “converse” with him, mainly because she sometimes still forgot to think instead of speak and the comments concerning her ‘habit of talking to herself’ were starting to pile up. Both James and Tom were inclined to keep their secret for now, she even more than him. She adored her godfather, but she had seen too much of the past war to have illusions about him not being capable of killing to protect her. And somehow, she had an inkling he would not like her mind-mate who he had already tried to throw out once.

“Better safe than sorry,” Tom agreed to her reasoning with a barely there shiver, “And stop calling me _mind-mate_! That sounds ridiculous!”

Other shops caught their interest: The apothecary smelled a bit like Severus’ lab at the Phoenix headquarters, and Tom felt bad for all the soon-to-be pets crammed in the too small cages at the Magical Menagerie.

Meanwhile her godfather kept an eye out for possible threats, half expecting to see a white mask and the hate-filled gaze of death eaters. Some movement attracted his attention; a few figures in dark coats, lingering in the shadows close to the entrance to Nocturne Alley. One of them looked directly at him, their cowl concealing most of the face; he only caught a glimpse of a smile and nearly glowing eyes in the colour of the killing curse. A heartbeat later they were gone.

“Severus?” Narcissa asked concerned, breaking his chain of thoughts that got more disturbing every second, “Are you alright?”

“No need to worry,” he answered, not entirely sure what he had seen anyway.

“And why have you been staring at Nocturne Alley for two minutes straight?”

“It wasn’t that long, and it’s a possible place for an ambush.” It was certainly not, but James asked to stop a moment in front of ‘Quality Quidditch’, effectively cutting off that line of conversation. The two adults indulged her for a while, allowing her to admire the new Nimbus 77. It made Severus think of the things Sirius had requested before they left him in Alana’s professional and heavily guarded care.

_“Don’t let her see me, even if she wants to. Tell her that I’ll always love her, but I can’t let her visit me after... what he’s done. And teach her flying. The real stuff, not only on a toy broom.”_

The second request had baffled him, but he agreed anyways. Their goddaughter was already smitten with Quidditch. But why was it so important to Sirius? Because of the sentimental value it held for himself and his best friend James?

Maybe he could buy Corbillat a broom for her birthday once she got older... _But certainly a slower one,_ he added mentally when he saw the advertisement praising the Nimbus’ speed as 100 mph.

_Why not chess or gobstone? Why did it have to be this neck-breaking sport?_ He lamented to himself, knowing that it was in vain anyway.

The group made their way over to Gringotts when the time for the appointment drew closer. James was in awe of the giant, white building, but the inscription on the silver door, a warning to thieves, scared her. Now she walked again, but only after Tom had explained the importance of a first impression. Severus cancelled the different spells and the three approached the reception counter, waiting for the teller to finish his writing. Most wizards interrupted the clever but vicious being’s work, and consequently lost all goodwill and patience they may harbour for wizards, which was not much to begin with.

“What can we do for you today?” he asked, watching them closely. The goblins had been carefully neutral during the Wizarding war, but had kept track of the major players. The once death-eater and fighter of Dumbledore’s order, and the widowed Lady Malfoy stood before him, that meant the witch child was the supposed slayer of the Dark Lord Voldemort. How­­­­­­­­ interesting.

“We are here for the reading of the wills of James and Lily Potter.”

“Names?”

“Severus Snape.”

“Narcissa Malfoy.”

“James Acacia Potter.” Both adults were surprised when she introduced herself, but took it as a good sign. But it was strange how she all but ignored her first name.

“Redblade!”   
Another goblin appeared, looking younger than any other of his kind Severus had yet seen, and he addressed his goddaughter first, “We finally meet, Ms Potter. I am Redblade, the manager of both the family-vaults and your trust vault,” his address was business-like, but not as cold as goblins usually spoke.

“May your gold always flow,” James greeted him hesitantly, following the instructions her father had given her what felt like a long time ago, but Redblade’s surprised smile had been worth it, “May your gold always flow. My young client knows her manners - Professor Snape, I understand you are her sole lawful guardian?”

“You are correct.”

Another of Moody’s conditions for the ‘freedom’ of the last of the Blacks; he had given up all rights and duties as her godfather.

“What? No!” Unfortunately he had neglected to tell James, an error who became obvious that very moment. “Sirius is my godfather as well.”

She looked at Severus, waiting for an explanation.

“He is right, Corbillat – I will explain it when we are back, I promise.”

James was on the edge of _demanding_ a clarification instantly. The time at the Academy had been nice enough, but she was getting sick about all these ‘we talk later’ omissions.

“But causing a scene will not get you anything, but them seeing you as only a child...” Tom played her voice of reason, especially as he sensed her legendary Evans-temper rising. And as much as James would love to make a fuss, he was right.

“I am always right. That’s what I do,” he drawled like no six-year-old should’ve been able to.

_Seriously? Until yesterday you didn’t know about the moon landing!_

“Details, details.” But he smiled good-naturedly at her tease.

“Fine,” she told Severus, nodding. Trying to convey _‘We will talk later!’_ with her eyes. Judging by his low chuckle, it had ended up more of a grimace. 

Redblade guided the conversation back on track, after what he had thought was a rhetorical question, “We’ll have to discuss several matters then, after the reading; Ms Potter, Mr Snape, Lady Malfoy, please follow me.”

The room chosen for the occasion was medium sized, decorated simply, if not a little dark. In its middle stood a long table, surrounded with comfortable armchairs, some of which were already occupied:

Euphemia Potter smiled as she saw the group of three, and James greeted her happily. Even though she didn’t know her grandmother very well, she liked her. She had been older when her son was born, and, self-admittedly, lacked the energy to spend large amounts of time with a young child. 

Then there was a family: Parents and their sons, both his goddaughter’s age, if Severus should’ve guessed. He did a double take at one of the boys, black haired and silver eyed, noting that he was almost a miniature version of Sirius.

The man bore a faint resemblance to James Potter, and shot the potions master a glare as if he was the root of all evil. They were probably members of a collateral line of the once far-flung family. The black-haired son looked at his goddaughter with curiosity, while the other ignored them, imitating his father’s posture.

And then there was Albus Dumbledore. _Of course_, Severus signed inwardly, _one does not become greatest wizard of his time by being easily defeated._

Corbillat sat down between her grandmother and godfather, asking Ceely the house elf how she was, to the little creature’s obvious delight. 

At the far end of the table stood a very old goblin. When everyone had seated themselves he cleared his throat, “We are here, on the 18th of November 1986, after thirteen days of mourning, to open the last wills of Lord James Fleamont Potter, and his wife, Lady Lily Juliet Potter, nee Evans. I am chief legal scholar Narok. Everyone present is to drip three drops of blood on this parchment.”

It was silent while everyone did as he had ordered and only when the document was back in Narok’s hands he continued, “As I call the name, state your relation to the Potters. Kenrick Charlus Potter.”

“Family member,” he said, voice dripping with superiority.

His wife, Marian, and his son, Henry, answered in kind, although in a very different tone. The silver eyed boy was not another son, as things turned out.

“Richard Altair Locksley. I am the ward of Marian Potter.”

The chief legal scholar raised an eyebrow at the answer, but left it alone.

Euphemia presented herself as mother and mother-in-law, her voice thick with grief. She smiled gratefully at her granddaughter when she squeezed her arm supportively.

Narok didn’t look on the parchment for the next name, “Roslyn James Acacia Potter.”

“I-I am their daughter,” she answered, her hand doing its best to crush Severus’.

The old goblin called on the last people and then considerate his paperwork for a moment.

“Sirius Black is not present. Ms Petunia Regan Dursley nee Evans is not present.” he made a note on one of the seemingly endless mass of papers he had in front of him.

“Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is here as a representative of the Wizengamot, and Redblade in his position as account manager of the concerned vaults.”

He finally picked up two envelopes, high quality parchment, sealed with the Potter’s coat of arms.

“The late Lord and Lady had agreed that should one of them die, everything would be passed on to the living partner. As James Potter died nearly four minutes prior to his wife,” the envelope in his right hand caught fire, pure lilac flames destroyed it completely, “His last will is hereby fulfilled.”

“What are you doing?!” Kenrick Potter had jumped from his seat, “We have to decide the future of one of the ancient and most noble houses! How dare you give a... a muggleborn free reign like this?!”

Severus would’ve bet his whole stash of potion ingredients, that the arrogant bastard had the slur ‘mudblood’ on the tip of his tongue.

Narok didn’t take the interruption too well either, “He saw it fit for his wife to handle matters of inheritance should he die before her.” He told him coldly, “There is nothing to decide, _Mr_ Potter, least for you.” He cut the remaining envelope open and started reading:

_This is the Last Will and Testament of me, Lady Lily Juliet Potter, residing at 7 Castle Lane, Godric’s Hollow, England._

_I hereby cancel all previous wills I have made._

_To my dear friend, Lady Narcissa Malfoy, I leave the following letter and a present, to remind us fondly by. _

Narcissa took the flat box with slightly shaking hands, but otherwise kept up the appearance of calm.

_“To Sirius Orion Black and Severus Snape, I entrust in equal parts the guardianship of my daughter Roslyn James Acacia Potter, should she still be a minor at the time of my death._

_All my liquid funds, belongings, all rights to the vaults 17 and 142 at Gringotts and the title of the house of Potter, I pass on to my daughter Roslyn James Acacia Potter._

_Lily Potter_

_Godric’s Hollow, 13th May 1985.”_

“She gets _everything_?” Kenrick sounded breathless now, “That’s a scandal!”

“Mr -”

“A half-blood cannot hold the title as Lady and head of our house! James would have surely wanted my son to become Lord someday!”

Henry looked like he wished himself far away and even his wife seemed ashamed of his behaviour.

“Did you know each other well?” The young girl asked out of honest curiosity. Kenrick Potter had been only one name of many on the family tree until today. The son of Charlus Potter and Dorea Potter nee Black to be precise, which made him her uncle trice removed.

He looked at her with something close to distaste and Severus felt slightly homicidal already. “Has your mother not taught you to be silent when adults talk?”

_He could be dead on the floor before the rest would even know what happened…_, the potions master mused darkly.

In the meantime, Tom had another plan, “Don’t allow the idiot to trample all over you. If you do not put him in his place now, he will only be a problem later.”

James was inclined to agree. Narcissa had taught her enough etiquette and politics to understand this, “She taught me many things” she replied coldly, swallowing her anger. She imitated the icy tone Severus used to chide(everyone but her), “And as I am to become Head of House, you will be respectful.”

Her godfather looked at her, eyebrow raised, questioning silently where _that_ had come from. Narcissa and Euphemia, true members of the Black-family at heart, nodded with approval. And it was enough to shut Kenrick Potter up, if only for a moment.   
“It’s a scandal!” he repeated, “We are going.” he went out first, his wife and son following. Richard Locksley made a thumbs up towards James behind his guardians back before leaving, making her giggle. The remaining gathering could still hear him cursing in the corridor, “That is not the last you’ve heard of me! You will see it!”

Dumbledore cleared his throat once the door was shut, “I may be mistaken, but a Ladyship and a seat at the Wizengamot are quite a handful for a six year old.”

He was slightly surprised at the similarity of the glares that he received from Severus and his goddaughter.

“You are mistaken.” Narcissa told him, doing her best not to sound impolitely.

“And delusional if you think this is a proceeding for you to poke around in,” Euphemia added with enough vitriol for both woman.

“As matters are clear,” Redblade spoke for the first time since the beginning of the reading, amused about Dumbledore being taken down a few notches, “We don’t need a representative of the Wizengamot.”

“I only desire to ensure the safety and wellbeing of Ms Potter.”

“You are neither a family member nor a guardian.” his voice left no room for disagreement, “You have no say in her affairs.”

“Since the sources of irritation are now gone,” Narok resumed dryly after the esteemed headmaster had for once done as he had been told, “I’ll leave you now. May your gold always flow.”

Euphemia said her goodbyes and Narcissa went to wait outside and it was quiet in the room, with the three of them. James slumped on her chair, truly exhausted and feeling safe enough to show it. She was still not fully recovered after all.

Redblade was a banker first and foremost, but to Goblins, who could only conceive a child once every twenty years, children were something precious. Sacred even. Hurting one was considered an unforgivable crime. And because of that he felt sympathy for the far too young Lady and Head of House, “It will get better.” he told her, as softly as he allowed himself, which was admittedly not much.

“But it takes time...” she murmured, but smiled a little, “What do I need to know?”

“Only small things at the moment,” He presented her the signet ring of her family. Her father had never worn it, so it had been in the vault, waiting for his new owner. It was a beautiful work of art, forged by the capable hands of goblins.

James looked at the jewellery with something close to hate. Redblade could relate to that, after all he had only taken his position at Gringotts because the Dark Lord had murdered his kin. He suppressed a sigh of sadness and went to a desk at back of the room, fishing out a small chain of goblin silver and presented her the ring, now turned to pendant, “Maybe for the time being, this is better suited for you, Lady Potter?”

“Thank you. I… I appreciate the thought,” she put the necklace on, feeling the gold settle against her skin.

“You are welcome. Now to an unpleasant part: Mr Snape, you’ll get a monthly statement from me, but I recommend Lady Potter knowing about her financial situation.”

Severus looked at her questioningly, mentioning Redblade to resume as she nodded.

“Your personal vault holds currently 16,000 Galleons, gold you may access any time you wish, even without the permission of Mr Snape. On each birthday there will be another 1,000 added and finally 5,000 once you are of age.

As for the family vault... your late father spent nearly everything since the beginning of the war.”

“Please define _‘Nearly everything’_?” Severus asked, not that he particularly cared for the money; if he took Lord Thannor up on his job offer, his future salary would be enough to support himself and her. But the family had been _filthy_ rich, back when he was at Hogwarts they could compete with the Blacks!

“Some artefacts and books are stored. You, Lady Potter, may access them once you are fifteen. We estimate, after the deduction of depts and taxes, the sum of 21,174 Galleons remains. Including the sums that will be transferred on your birthdays.

The Manor was sold a few years ago, to Kendrick Potter, and the Cottage in Godric’s hollow was destroyed, so currently no landed property is keyed to the vault.”

“He spent it for the war effort…” Severus murmured. But Corbillat had a safety net, there was no reason to be overly concerned. Surely Lily had taken extra care for her daughter having something left after the war.

“Dad probably thought the money wouldn’t matter anyway if we lost the war.” She looked at him for agreement and Severus nodded, “He was right.”

Redblade was, in honesty, taken aback. He had just told his client and her guardian that there was nothing left of a multimillion galleon fortune, but they didn’t even appear to be angry.

_Wizardkin_, he thought, “I will take care of everything here, young Lady,” he declared, “It will wait for your return.”

o ~ O ~ o

James had just convinced her godfather to promise that they would explore the old second-hand bookshop, amusing Narcissa greatly as she watched the two come into the entrance hall of Gringotts.

“Severus, we need to talk.” Dumbledore had been the one to address him, but more than half of the Order was backing him up this time. He was mildly surprised how much it stung to see not only the diehard members like Diggle, Vance and Jones, but the Longbottoms and Remus were there as well. 

“When did you plan to tell us that you are moving to New Zealand WITH ROSELYN?!” Alice was fuming, nearly screaming at him. James hid behind her godfather, trusting the security his presence gave her.

“We are going to live at the Academy?” Severus noticed how her eyes positively shined at the idea and she started bouncing up and down even as she had a firm grip on his robe.

“We’ll discuss this later, Corbillat,” he said, smiling softly and then aimed a glare at Alice, “I haven’t made any decision as of yet.”

“You should’ve told us still!”

“And pray tell when? After the funeral and Corbillat getting sick? During the Azkaban break-out?”

“Before you make life-altering decisions for her! Her home is here in England! With her _family_!”

His ire rose at the continued nagging and self-righteous expressions and small nods from other Order members in the background.

“Alice, she is my goddaughter. Contrary to what Dumbledore might have told you, I will not give up custody of her!”

“But you should! Why does my niece look like her face has been _branded_? Since you can’t watch out for her, leave it to us!”

Alice had crossed the line. She knew it just as the last word had left her mouth and before his eyes lost every trace of warmth or emotions.

“I am aware of her injury. She is receiving proper treatment.” his voice was calm and very cold, “Is there something else, Lady Longbottom?”

“If I may?” Dumbledore put a comforting hand on the young woman’s shoulder, but looked directly at Severus. “Why did I receive your notice? You would be missed greatly in Hogwarts.”

Knowing he needed to quit anyway, he had sent his letter of retirement earlier that day, but by the minute Thannor’s offer sounded more appealing.

“Not by the students, I can assure you.”

“Roselyn -”

“It’s _‘James’_,” she told him, just loud enough to interrupt him, “And I am right here, Headmaster.”   
He smiled down at her in his grandfatherly way. “James.” he corrected himself, “I know you are, my dear. But I still need to discuss this with Severus.”

“Narcissa, could you take her to the bookshop?”

“Sev?”

“I promise I’ll be there shortly, Corbillat, alright?” She nodded reluctantly, but allowed her honorary aunt to lead her away.

“She has to live in England. Great Britain at least.” Dumbledore _“explained”_ as soon as they were out of earshot.

“Why? So you can keep an eye on _‘the saviour of the wizarding world’_?” Severus smile was without mirth, “I thought we discussed the question of custody enough by now.”

“I am sure the Wizengamot will not allow a Death Eater to raise the child who vanquished the Dark Lord.” Dumbledore’s voice was still very pleasant, but his eyes showed a hard edge, “I would hate to have James lose you. So soon after her parents and Sirius.”

Frank Longbottom turned white like a sheet, “Albus, you can’t... can’t _frame_ him! He risked his life countless times to stop You-Know-Who!”

“I will do whatever has to be done. And I am sure Severus sees reason now, since things are in proper perspective again.”

“So… I’ll do as you say or get a free ship to Azkaban? Does this summarize your offer?” Dumbledore just smiled.

“You never let anyone outside of the Order know about my work as a spy, let alone as a follower of him,” Severus mused out load, “And I don’t think too many Death Eaters who are familiar with my name and face are still alive... How do you plan on getting me sentenced?”

The headmaster frowned at his words, feeling like he was walking into a trap, but all he saw was his checkmate, “Counter question: How will you explain the Dark Mark?”

“Dark Mark?”

“Yes, the one -” Dumbledore fell silent when he remembered. How it had nearly killed the potions master, and the price for his life that had been his branded arm.

“Not to forget the written testimony you made, stating that I was your spy during the war and how I helped the Order. You left it in the halls of record, sealed until the end of the war. An ending the Ministry of Magic announced on the fifteenth of this month, making it official and non-withdrawable.”

“I shouldn’t underestimate your resourcefulness,” He murmured with something close to astonishment. Severus allowed himself a smile.   
“I am a Slytherin if nothing else.”

Dumbledore looked at the young man in front of him: Not even in his thirties, dark circles under his eyes and obviously exhausted. And still he had been bested by him.

When he heard the news of Lily’s tragic and heroic death he had expected the potions master to turn into a useless, broken shell of himself. But it hadn’t happened.

His love for his goddaughter was apparently stronger than the need to collapse and mourn the loss of his beloved. In this he had made a grave mistake, just as Tom Riddle had.

But would something good come of it, if the girl was raised by Severus - and Narcissa to some extent? Without a doubt she was going to receive training, teaching her too much, too early. It may benefit her, but might very well lead to the downfall of their world.

If – no, _when_ Tom came back, Roselyn James Potter was the only one able to stop him. But how could he know what kind of person she would grow into? Why should she follow his command without question? Severus was an observant and deeply sceptic mentor. And being under the tutelage of Sylvan Academy? Dumbledore knew Lord Thannor as a just and good man, but he seemed blind to the dangers of studying the darker branches of magic...

Albus wished the child no ill - how could he ever do harm to such a wonderful girl, one that reminded him of lovely, sweet Ariana? His plans for her future were not meant to make her unhappy.

Living with the Dursleys was ideal in his mind, it protected her from her own fame and outside dangers alike. And she might find a companion in their son, who was just her age. He did not understand how everyone thought Petunia disliked her own niece, even more since she was a well-behaved and intelligent child.

Than his idea with the Weasleys. It could teach her the values and ideals of the light, certainly humbleness, and hopefully some of the kindness Molly all but radiated. And they would love her dearly, taking her in as one of their own.

Other possibilities existed, of course, but if Severus remained stubborn... The rights of godparents were protected by law just like those of parents and without fool-prove evidence for neglect, abuse or similar grave misdeeds, ironclad.

“Then there is only for me to wish you good luck - the staff will certainly miss you, my boy.”

Severus’ eyebrow rose, because this had been far too easy, “Thank you…”

“I am sure you allow me to visit occasionally. Just to see how she is doing.”

The silence hung heavy for a moment, then the younger man casted a strong Muffliato, several security spells, and a charm to prevent lip-reading, “Did you know about the Horcrux?”

Dumbledore’s face betrayed nothing, but there was a slight shift in his eyes from expectation to surprise and... anger? And that was enough of an admission.

“Out of curiosity,” Severus gritted his teeth almost audibly, “Did you want her to die or were you just staying silent and hoping for the best?”

“In normal circumstances it shouldn’t have bothered her,” Dumbledore simply answered.

“Aside from the fact that she would’ve carried around a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul feeding on her life and magic? Clearly not a problem, how did I fail to see that?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm and he really felt like destroying something. Or someone.

“You have to see the bigger picture, Severus.”

“And you need to see your new ‘chess piece’ is a six year old human being - and I won’t allow you to manipulate her!”

“In all this protectiveness you seem to forget, without you she would be unharmed and in the care of her loving and very much alive parents.”

Everything inside him turned into painful, icy knots and tears burned in his eyes, “I know.”

_I will never be able to forgive myself,_ he added silently. “That’s just another reason to protect her against every vile creature lurking around, and from the Dark Lord rising from his grave. And against you!”


	8. Wood, goblin's silver and a feather

_Early Morning_

_18th November 1986_

_Hall of travel, Sylvan Academy, Steward Island, New Zealand_

Every time Severus came back from Great Britain it felt even colder than before. Objectively, he knew the temperatures were similar to Scotland, but the bitter wind made up for it. His goddaughter seemed unimpressed by the night’s cold as they exited the Hall of Travel. Or by the portkey for that matter, while his insides did somersaults.

Ros - _Corbillat_, walked next to him, holding the new books to her chest and mumbling to herself like she did often now. It had been nice to go to the old second-hand store again, he remembered fondly how he had spend almost every sickle he could scrap together there, during his teens. Her choice of reading however… the fantasy-novels and comics were nothing too unusual, but the book on astral travel, rebirth and similar obscure themes? Not exactly worrying but this newfound interest seemed strange. Like a lot of things lately, come to think of it.

“Can we talk when we are at the clinic again?”

Severus looked at her a little doubtfully, back in Gringotts she had appeared rather tired, “Do you not want to rest first?”

She thought a moment before shaking her head, “I think I’ll sleep better after I know what’s going on.”

“Very well,” Severus succumbed, opening the door for her.

“Professor Snape, James,” the ghost ‘working’ as porter floated past them with a nod, doing his never-ending rounds.

“Morning, Newell.” The spectre in puritan, 17th-century-clothing was just another thing to like about the Academy.

Back in ‘her’ room she sat down on the bed, to look expectantly at her godfather. Severus swallowed thickly, but he dragged one of the chairs over to sit across from her.

_‘Could you leave us alone for this?’ _James asked her friend silently.

“Of course,” Tom answered evenly and he seemed to become invisible, “We can talk later, if you want.”

“Where is Sirius and why is he not my godfather anymore?” She started the conversation because she didn’t think Severus would do it.

“The reason is…” he ran his fingers through his hair, searching in vain for the right words, “He is safe and unharmed in St. Mungos. And… Corbillat, he loves you. More than anything.”

“What happened? Because you really scare me when you talk like this!”

“Your home… was protected by a powerful charm.”

“The Fidelius. And the bastard sold us out to… You-Know-Who.” It angered James how she couldn’t get either of their names over her lips. For very different reasons.

“Language,” Severus reprimand without really meaning it. Not in this case. “Pettigrew betrayed you, but Vol - the Dark Lord” he hurriedly corrected, as his goddaughter flinched violently at the first syllable alone, which made him feel even worse about the whole talk. “He… influenced Sirius when he was a child.”

James grew unnaturally still, staring at him with wide eyes, “I don’t understand… Can you show me?”

That was about the last thing he wanted to do, “Corbillat -”

“Let me see!” This time, it wasn’t a question anymore. And he gave in, because he could never explain everything to her, not in a way able to satisfy either of them. It took Severus almost a minute to craft the memory for her to see out of his experience with the Memoria charm and the following conversation.

He didn’t want her to see the screwed-up childhood her former godfather had lived through. But her father meeting his friends was something he felt she might like to see. How things had gone so... downhill for Sirius was important – but he would allow her to see how Voldemort had tortured him; only when hell had frozen over.

The prophecy… she was far too young to know about it. He knew her enough, her first thought was going to be how the death of her parents was her own fault and that was unacceptable. 

Sirius had adored her from birth, maybe seeing it would be some semblance of reconciliation for her...

But how much did she need to see of Sothis? She already knew of Pettigrew’s death. Her reaction had been something between indifference and, for her age, completely inappropriate, grim satisfaction… In the end he merely blurred out the Dark Lord and the murder until it was almost indecipherable.

The silvery thread hung on the tip of his wand, swirling softly. He refrained from questioning her again; she had the same determined glint in her green eyes as Lily.

James blinked as the mist touched her forehead and the events played out in her own mind. It took some time until she came back to reality. He was not sure what kind of reaction he had expected, probably tears, but her eerie calmness unnerved him to no end. “… Corbillat?”

The girl shook her head, “I think I need sleep. Can we talk about this after the sun is up again?”

“Sure, little one,” he gave her a soft kiss on the forehead, “I love you.”

Her smile was unchanged, brilliant and wide when she answered, “Love you too, Sev.”

o ~ O ~ o

“NO! MUM! DAD!”

Severus was awake within a heartbeat, turned on the light and rushed towards his goddaughter’s bed. She was trashing violently, screaming so load she would be hoarse the next day, “DON’T KILL MUM!”

“Corbillat, wake up!” Her dreams were still gruesome, but it was now easier to awaken her, after a few gentle shakes she was blinking at him, disoriented and cheeks wet with tears.

“You are safe. It was a nightmare.”

She wordlessly fled into his arms, trembling like she might freeze to death. He could do nothing more than hold her close and murmur - hopefully - comforting words.

“Severus?” Charlotte came in, obviously tiered and judging by her mint coloured robe she was doing the night-shift.

“She had a nightmare,” he replied lowly.

The healer moved to stand next to him, fishing a calming draught out of her many pockets, “The monitor wards went off - Was the day to stressfully, James?” she asked softly as she drowned the potion. Her little patient seamed to try and answer, but after a few attempts she merely shrugged. She looked defeated.

“You cannot speak right now? - It’s okay!” She hurriedly replied to a shake of her head, “You had a bad nightmare. You can try to sleep and if it is still not better in the morning we will talk with Tasia. Does that sound good to you?”

The nod reassured both adults and James jawed, obviously exhausted. She closed her eyes and lent against her godfather, about to fall asleep again any moment.

“Was the reading of wills so bad?” Charlotte asked concerned, switching to French just in case.

“It’s my fault,” Severus ran a hand through his hair, too tired to hide his distress, “We came back around two o’clock and she was already exhausted from the whole proceeding but she wanted to know… about Sirius.”

“So you told her. Sounds fine to me.”

“No, I should have waited for a better time. Mature she might be, but she is still only six. - And I showed her the memories! What did I think?!”

Charlotte laid a hand on his shoulder, smiling when he did not flinch at the contact like he used to, “Severus, you do your best. And four o’clock is too early for self-pity. Or self-deprecation for that matter.”

“The better I get to know you the more amazed I am by your consideration,” he said with significantly less acid than someone else would have gotten for such a remark.

“Because you are tact personified?” She grinned, casting a diagnostic charm on the now fast asleep child, “Jams will be fine - get some rest or those cycles under your eyes will be permanent.”

“I thought you liked them,” he quipped while he tugged James in, teasing a chuckle from Charlotte.

“Black _does_ suit you - Sleep well. Both of you.”

o ~ O ~ o

The next morning in the Academy clinic saw the shift handover of the nurses, planning examinations, the routines that, along with generous amounts of coffee and black tea, kept medical institutions running.

Lord Thannor and James Potter had reached something of an amicable healer-patience-relationship since he didn’t ‘bother’ her so often anymore. She made splendid progress so far, even considering the little set-back last night that Charlotte had mentioned.

He smiled at her when he finished his check-up, “I have good news for you, young Lady. You are free to leave us next week.”

“YES!” She high-fived her favourite nurse, grinning widely: “About damn time!”

“Language,” Severus reprimanded, half-heartily as usual.

When the caravan of healer and their entourage moved on, James smile wavered. Worry filled her godfather again. She was six for Merlin’s sake! She should be playing along other kids without any care in the world and bother him with unending, immature ‘why?’-questioning all day.

It was this stillness, she showed occasional, and it unnerved him to no end. His goddaughter had always been mature beyond her years and the encounters with Voldemort had left their traces. Severus was thankful that she didn’t remember Lily’s death, but the Horcrux alone...

“You are glaring into thin air again, Sev,” his goddaughter’s soft voice interrupted his dark musing.

“I know, Corbillat.”

“What did the air do to you?” She asked, completing their little ritual, with no other intention but to make him smile.

“Nothing - It’s no reason to worry about,” he said lightly as possible. She did not need to know. Maybe never, if he could solve the problem somehow.

“Why are you lying to me?” It was not the statement in itself that made his blood freeze, but the sharpness her words held. Yes, it was his six-year-old goddaughter sitting there and looking at him. But these eyes… green like death and seemed to belong to someone way older.

“… Because you are a child, Corbillat. And as your godfather it is my job to not let you know of everything.”

“So there _is_ a reason to be worried?” She asked voice still unusual cold.

“Not for you and not right now,” It was the truth. Partly at least.

“Because I am ‘a child’?” she mimicked his earlier words, “Is that why you changed the memory you showed me?”

He hesitated a moment, before simply answering, “Indeed.”

“I don’t feel like a child,” she murmured downcast, “Not anymore…”

_“For Merlin's sake, Sev, loosen up, will you?” Lily exclaimed with a fierceness that surprised him._

_He merely croaked an eyebrow at her, “Why is this so important to you?” he questioned. While she was his best friend, sometimes her chains of thoughts simply went over his head. “Because,” the Gryffindor started to explain with a seriousness contradicting her earlier statement, “You are not an adult. Stop acting so mature!”_

_“How do you expect me to act then?” he murmured defensively._

_“Like the second-year you are? Just for a chance?”_

_“I don't feel like a child…” And how was he suppose to? - He didn't even want to think about the… place he had to go back to once school was over._

_Suddenly a pair of thin but strong arms was around his shoulders, squeezing him and he felt Lily’s breath tickle his ear, “I'll show you then, okay, Sev?”_

_She had dragged him to the lake, to play with the giant squid and enjoy the sunshine._

Lily had understood, somehow. And it made failing her daughter so much worse than it would have already. He had promised to protect her no matter what, the day she had been born. And Voldemort had ripped her parents from her and left scars on her mind and body, “I am so sorry, Corbillat,” he whispered, wiping away the single tear rolling down his cheek.

She had seen it anyway. She had made him cry and he was apologising to her? Her eyes misted over and a blink of an eye later Severus found himself with an arm full of goddaughter. James cried so much, he was unable to make any sense of her words at first. It took several minutes for her to calm down just slightly again.

“Sorry,” she whispered between two sobs, “I’m horrible!”

“No, you’re not!” He disagreed, his hand never stopped smoothing over her hair and back, “It is alright.”

“No, it’s not! I made you cry!” That resulted in a new wave of wailing and Severus frantically tried to calm her down, “You didn’t make me cry - You reminded me, how much I miss your mother.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but enough for now.

Another few minutes later, the sobbing stopped, and the last tear fell, “I miss Mum and Dad, Sev.” she whispered against his robe.

“I know, Corbillat. I do too,” She nodded, letting him wipe her face clean, “You don’t hate me?” the doubt in her voice turned his insides into a painful twist.

“I love you. Do you hear me? Nothing will ever chance that.”

“… Okay.” whispered, cuddling back against him, signing, “And now?”

He smiled down at her, “You must be hungry – I am sure we can bribe someone to make you french toast for breakfast.”

“Sounds good - But I meant what Alice said. About us moving to New Zealand?” James dearly hoped it was a true possibility rather than a jealousy-inspired figment of the imagination by her ‘Aunt’. She was still miffed after all, how she wasn’t her godmother. 

“It’s merely an idea at the moment,” Severus revealed carefully, a little hesitating, “Lord Thannor offered me a teaching position. We would live here; you could visit the Academy and keep seeing Ms Nagi… How does it sound to you?”

She smiled; she truly liked New Zealand. And Britain might be her home, but... “Can we do that? When Aunt Cissy and I left Gringotts… She forgot to cast the illusions at first.”

Severus groaned, it was expected since Dumbledore’s announcement, proclaiming her as the one to defeat Voldemort, but it was still a nuisance, “How bad was it?”

James grimaced, remembering the encounter, “Well… Someone recognised me and scream something like ‘the-girl-who-lived’, you-know-who and… other stuff. Cissy confounded him before anyone else really bothered us, but… It was _very_ strange.”

The upside with his goddaughter disliking her fame this much, was how little he would have to worry about her growing entitled. Merlin knew her genetics were not on his side.

“Will... everyone treat me like...?” she didn’t finish, unsure what to even call that cut-short attempt of hero-worship.

“No, surely not. But some people, especially in Britain, might, probably more than either of us would want,” he answered truthfully.

This revelation pretty much made the decision for her, “My vote is for moving! I can always visit Draco and Neville and I like it here - Aside from the clinic.”

He chuckled at her last comment, “Good. Then I will tell Lord Thannor about us two becoming permanent residence?”

She nodded, smiling widely, “Yes! I really want to stay”

o ~ O ~ o

“Do you think he was lying to me?” James mused out load, half-heartily making her comics book levitate around her.

Severus was off, talking about his new job with the principle, leaving her to her own devices for a few hours. Not that she was _‘alone’_ in a clinic full of people, whose job it was to take care of others.

Tom mused a little over her question before he answered, “I think your inkling is more accurate. He is omitting rather than lying”

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine…”

He merely rolled his eyes, “I want to see you being all happy without a body and the majority of your memories lost.”

“You don’t strike me as the positive type anyway.”

“…That is not the point!” He grumbled a little more, making her smile. But there was still something bothering her.

In the memory Severus had shown her, he had not changed Sirius meeting… you-know-who. It really annoyed James how she could not think let alone say his name without starting to sweat and shiver. She needed to talk this through with her mind-healer. Ms Nagi had been rather helpful and understanding, and even better: she didn’t make her feel like a mentally instable child that would snap every second and burn something. Or someone.

“What are you brooding about now?” Tom asked, breaking the silence.

James projected the memory into her hand. She was not sure _how_ she did it exactly and how only she and Tom could see it. It was still cool.

“This man… _Tom Marvolo Riddle_.”

It had never occurred her before how V… _you-know-who_ had been a human being. In her childlike mind he was more off a monster, a demon, _pure evil. _Not a person.

Both children now watched the image of the memory in silence. Pale, black hair, red eyes. Tom’s eye colour had shifted back into their natural dark hazel only little flecks of red remaining, but the resemblance was not less disturbing. 

“You-know-who was after my family, Tom. I survived it and got sick… and now you are here.” She looked over to him, he had his gaze still fixed on the man, so similar to himself. His face was so white it would make ghosts envious, “What do you think? That I am... him?”

“It was your first thought when I showed you the memory,” her voices had gained somewhat of a hard edge, knowing he was too observant, too clever to overlook such a critical detail.

“I feared it,” he admitted it so lowly James almost missed his words. And she believed him, because no Dark Lord could nor would pose so convincing as a six-year-old scared of his own shadow. And Tom looked it, no matter how hard he was trying to hide it.

She moved over knowing she was able touch him and gave him a hug. It felt strange, like hugging something not _quite_ there, an invisible pressure keeping her from stirring through her friends ‘body’. He tensed upon the contact, but did not try to get away, which she took as a good sigh.

James didn’t knew but it was the first time someone embraced him since his mother died holding him close. The matrons at the Wool’s had not done it, unease as they were with him and his strangeness. And the other children… the last thing he remembered was how he had not wanted to be touched by any of them, regardless of the intent behind it.

But she _was_ his first friend. He could not quite remember his years at Hogwarts, but he had the feeling that he had been just as lonely…

He liked it, he decided, how her magic surrounded him as surely as her arms. Maybe… he didn’t need to be alone anymore?

“…Thank you,” he murmured the words against the wild mess she called a hairstyle.

“You are very welcome - How about we forgo this discussion until further notice?”

Tom raised an eyebrow at her, “Why would we do that?”

“Because you are my friend. And V-Vo… Vol... **\- damn! - **You-know-who is _dead_. Let it die with him, whatever it is.”

“You are too trusting, James.”

“And you are still my ray of sunshine, Tommy-dearest.”

“Will you stop calling me ridiculous names?” For all the outrage in his voice he had a hard time keeping himself from laughing.

“Why would I, it’s my sacred duty as a good friend to pester you like this! Oh, Marvi, saint of cynicism.”

That was too much, he almost shook in her arms with laughter, “You are horrible!” he arduously forced out.

James merely grinned. Tom was smiling and laughing again, it was enough for the moment.

o ~ O ~ o

_Evening_

_21th November_

_Spinner’s end, Cokeworth, England_

“Why did you never show me all this cool stuff? It’s awesome!”

Severus levitated the old dagger out of James’ reach just before she could grab it, “You are no fun!”

“Yes. What kind of guardian would not be thrilled by the prospect of his ward losing a few fingers?”

“Ms Van Kirk said I will turn out your carbon copy if you keep talking like that,” James murmured, looking all innocence.

“Did she now?” he glanced at her questioningly, but she merely grinned back.

They had started their move yesterday and of course his goddaughter had insisted to come along. Packing her belongings was easy enough; what was left of her nursery at Godric’s Hollow and the few things scattered in Malfoy Manor and his own house. A small but growing pile of books and comics over at Sylvan - All in all, merely two and a half cardboard boxes. He had planned on buying the furniture for her room, but Lady Euphemia had beaten him to it.

Her granddaughter wrote her about everything and anything, including the move. And hadn’t that been a nice surprise when Severus received a letter from the sprightly matriarch complementing his decision to raise James elsewhere. And to remind him both of the girl’s parents had chosen him as a godfather, not Dumbledore. It was good for once to be not questioned at every turn.

And the Lady Dowager of House Potter had more than just words for them: The very next day her houseelf stood in his goddaughter’s nearly empty room of the flat that belonged to Severus as long as he taught at Sylvan. Along with a beautifully crafted set of cherry wood-furniture for ‘Little Lady James’, as Ceely so affectionately called her.

Any protest he might have harboured died upon seeing the girl jumping around happily and chattering about the best place for the giant bed. The room had now a bed, desk, chair, two bookcases, a wardrobe, chest of drawers and an armchair.

“Is it too early to go over?” she asked after a look at the clock, drawing his attention from the vials he was packing up.

James would get her magical focus today - Surprise, Sylvan Academy did not do anything in halves: They had their own _wandsmith_. Régine had helpfully explained how this woman had a rather misleading title because she created all kinds of foci, not just wands.

His goddaughter was almost giddy already, too much to realise that between her jumps in the air she had no contact with the floor anymore... Charlotte was right in calling her a break of the statue of secrecy waiting to happen. Hopefully her magic would calm down once her training started.

“Let’s finish wrapping this and we can leave.” He had packed up most of his lab equipment, only the more _delicate_ ingredients were left. They needed proper isolation or the portkey-travel would render everything useless. Or make them explode; one could never be too careful with Manticore-venom and Ashwinder eggs.

“I think I finally hit a growth-spurt!” James had realised her changed high-level, it seems.

Severus merely raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for the Galleon to drop. 

“What?” she looked to her left, than at her feet, still more than two inches above the floor, “Damn! That _was_ too good to be true!”

“Language!”

o ~ O ~ o

_Morning, 22th November, Sylvan Academy, Steward Island, New Zealand_

The ‘Wandforge’ - and that name was enough to skyrocket James’ excitement to a whole new level - was located a little outside of the Academy’s centre, just pass the greenhouses and the inevitable Quidditch-pitch.

Severus had expected a dusty, ill-lit shop, not unlike Ollivander’s in Diagon Alley. But the house was open, light filtering through giant windows; almost every surface was taken up by plants, the air smelled fresh and slightly sweet. And a lot of magical foci were on display: An assortment of different wands, a staff-rack, a glass cabinet filled with all kinds of jewellery; and even some swords on wooden hangers on the walls. 

Since Lord Thannor, Régine and Charlotte had separately emphasised that the wandsmith had little to no patience for unpunctuality they were perfectly on time. No need to make things difficult for James.

“There you are. And on punctual as well,” the women who greeted them was in her late sixties, silver streaks woven in her dark brown hair. On her lips and chin she wore _Tâ moko_, the traditional tattoos of the Maori.

“I heard we have won ourselves a new potion master. Welcome to Sylvan Academy.”

“Thank you very much, Professor Henare.”

“It’s _Kiri_ for a fellow member of the staff – My forge will be the best customer for healing salves. Little injuries are so common, my appetencies would _life_ in the clinic without them.”

“Then I insist you call me Severus. Small remedies were always in high demand in Hogwarts, I am positive that you will find everything to your satisfaction.”

“Sev is the best potion master in all of europe!” his goddaughter helpfully chimed in with her own opinion.

Henare pushed her glasses up her nose, a small smile on her lips, mustering the child in front of her, “You must be James Potter.”

“Yes… Ma’am.” She added the form of address as an afterthought, but it seemed to please the wandsmith.

“How old are you?” she was pretty sure the woman knew, but answered anyway, “I am six. Six one quarter.”

“Way too young to visit my workshop,” her smile turned gentle, “Do you understand why you are here despite that your age?”

James thought a moment before answering, searching for the right words, “Because my magic is acting up. I need training to wield it properly and therefore wand.”

“Correct. As wonderful as it is, magic can easily turn destructive. You are five years younger than most when they are first handed a focus is still a weapon. I expect you to handle yours with caution and maturity.”

_How could I forget just what my gift is capable of? I see the Killing curse whenever I look in the mirror. _James thought darkly, “I know.”

Maybe it was the simplicity of the answer that convinced the wandsmith, “Very well - Now give me your hands, please.”

The girl did so without hesitation, wondering what this would be about. She got even more curious when Henare laughed lowly as she embraced her much smaller hands in her warm, wrinkled ones.

“Are you... pleased?” she asked a little unsure.

“I am amazed,” the wandsmith answered simply and than a grin took over her face that made her look a decade younger, “And I am very happy, because it has been a long time since I crafted a staff.”

At those words James smiled right back, “Not a wand, a real staff?” She had seen Lord Thannor and some of the other teachers and students carrying one, she had not thought that she would be getting one.

“Indeed. Let’s start working on your partner”

James and Severus followed the wandsmith, the later filled with no little trepidation, wondering what had the older woman decide to craft his goddaughter a staff instead of a ‘simple’ wand. Couldn’t things turn a bit more normal from now on?

The workshop itself looked a mix between an Alchemy-lab and carpentry. Shelves lined three of the walls, filled to the brim with woods, blocks of metal, Severus even spotted a whole jar of phoenix-feathers.

“Did you make all the foci outside yourself?” James asked curious.

“Not all. The wands and staffs are mine, but the jewellery and swords were made by my apprentices.” There was obvious pride in her voice talking about their work.

“How many apprentices do you have, Professor?”

“Two, but I am looking for a third,” Henare answered while gathering several smaller boxes and placed them on a large glass desk in the middle of the room.

“How does one become a wandsmith?” James wondered out loud, playing with a small crystal that had lain around.

Henare smiled at her, “There are many ways. One needs a strong connection to magic, knowledge in herbology, handling of creatures and a sound education in alchemy. Among other things. And a master of the craft willing to take you under their wings, of course.”

As usual when she listed her requirements, they were impressed, especially James, “Cool. You managed to find two of those people and really think there is a third?”

The old woman laughed, “Put like this, optimism is very useful as well.” She mentioned the girl over to her desk, to the set-up containers, “I want you to pick at least one.”

“And what is in them?”

“Focus cores,” Henare explained, “I find blind testing is a good way to prevent my clients from wish-fulfilment-induced errors.”

“I thought only phoenix-feathers, dragon-heartstring and Unicorn-hair were used for that?” This time it was Severus who could not hold back his curiosity.

“One of these days Great Britain will regret relying solemnly on the Ollivanders with their close-minded thinking,” the wandsmith murmured darkly before elaborating, “I use all kinds of materials, mostly from creatures, but some magic-users have a better response to crystals. - Lay a hand on the boxes, James, close your eyes and concentrate on how it feels. - Warm, comforting, maybe you will remember a pleasant smell…”

The girl did as she was told, trying each box. One she let go so quickly as if it had burned her, others she lingered longer, expressions ghosting over her face, “I like this one best.”

Henare raised an eyebrow at the choices, knowing the contents by heart, “You do have something of a temperament, don’t you?”

“… You can tell because of the box I choose?” It was not untrue, but for that trick she wanted an explanation.

The wandsmith merely shrugged, when she opened the box, showing it to be a beautiful, black feather those edges looked like it had been dipped into liquid gold, “Stormraven plume usually makes a temperamental foci for temperamental owners.”

_One reason more to learn Occlumency then,_ James mused, “What kind of creature is it?”

Henare handed her the future core to hold so it would ‘get used to you’ before she started, “There are native to middle and northern Europe and almost extinct nowadays. Similar to Thunderbirds they are able to summon storms or merely rain. Depending on who you ask Stormravens are either the bringer of dark times or signify the change needed to end those. If I remember correctly, the hall of wisdom has a whole book dedicated to them.”

Henare went back to the composition of the staff, “Maybe we can balance the core a little ... the right woods… This might work very well actually… Let’s see.”

The old woman moved around in quick movements, choosing timbers from the shelves with displaced murmuring…

James took fancy to one block of rich brown colouration, weighting it in her hand. It felt warm, alive even, not unlike the box containing the feather had, “What is this?”

“Acacia wood - Does it call to you?”

She let her fingers trail over the smooth surface, following the beautiful grain, “Very much so. It just feels… _right_ I guess.”

As she hold her feather and block together, like the wandsmith told her to, it grew even warmer in her hand and the soft plum started to glimmer.

“A match. Good... The staff will become _picky_ if nothing else. I would not be surprised when it refuses it’s loyalty to anyone but you... Stormraven and Acacia... what could work with you two... I like to pair one core and two woods; it makes the construct more stable.”

This took a little longer and reminded Severus of his experience at Ollivander’s, only that blocks instead of wands wandered one after another to the ‘No-pile’.

The Stormraven-feather did not agree with Cedar. The Acacia seemed to dislike Fir, even if the wood itself was well match for James. Sycamore _worked_, but it was not the perfect combination Henare tended to looked for. The Poplar turned so cold at James’ touch, she dropped it. The wandsmith merely joked that a carrier in politics would still be open to her. “Maybe this one,” despite the growing pile, there was no hint of frustration in her voice,

The pale block was warm in the girl’s hand, warmer than the Sycamore but not as strong as the Acacia. But somehow...

“Why does it look so familiar?”

“Maybe one of your family-members has a yew wand and -” Henare stopped talking when the so compliant girl almost threw the wood on the worktable, like it was a venomous snake.

“James?”

The last time she had seen a wand made of this had been as a red-eyed demon had pointed it at her mother’s heart. She trembled at the thought of having a staff created from it,

Severus had said a few low words to Henare in the meantime, explaining the... issue. The wandsmith merely nodded eyes soft with understanding and moved to find a different wood.

Larch had been another try, but much like the apple-timber, she felt almost no connection to it.

At last they settled for a block of hawthorn, an even better match to James than the Acacia was.

“Very well. You can come tomorrow and pick your staff up.”

“Can’t I watch you crafting it?” she asked with big, pleading puppy dog eyes.

“Uhm…” Henare looked pleasantly surprised, “Severus, what do you say?”

“Pleeeease, Sev?”

He merely rolled his eyes and huffed, still more amused than annoyed, “Very well.”

The following hours were spent reading, in his case, while his goddaughter watched how her focus was crafted.

The start was drawing complex schematic, which James couldn’t made heads or tails off. And lead Professor Henare to explain her why arithmancy was so important to study.

After the theory out of the way, she worked on the staff. Not with a lathe or woodcarving knife, she used her hands and magic to form the blocks into shape. She was known for weaving goblin silver in between the woods, for durability and something ‘a little extra’, as she told James winking.

To her disappointment, the girl was not allowed to watch how the core was set, that being a secret wandmakers and wandsmiths alike did not share, but it didn’t took too long. Then the handle was made and since the future bearer was there, Henare told her to pick the leather for it.

“We are finished!” Severus looked up at his goddaughter’s exclamation.

She held her staff in hand that was a good foot longer than she was tall. The different woods appeared like they had grown into each other, both interspersed with thin lines of goblin silver. He didn’t know what kind of leather his goddaughter had picked for the handle, but it was a beautiful. The small scales seemed to have a shade of green of their own.

“It’s a true work of art - Thank you very much, Prof – _Kiri_.”

“You are welcome. James, the moment I hear you misused your staff or hurt someone with it because you became upset, anything the like, I will take it away. And only return it once I deem you mature enough to handle it. Do I make myself clear?”

James didn’t doubt one second that this was exactly what would happened, “Very clear, Ma’am.”


	9. Changing tides

_Early afternoon_

_29th November_

_Townhouse of the Longbottom family, Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, Manchester, England_

The windows and mirrors were hung with dark grey fabric and lit candles stood on almost every surface in the old, regal house. Barely a month had passed since the war was over and they mourned their fallen. While outside all of Great Britain still celebrated you-know-who’s fall. As if there was not a giant, metaphoric pile of pieces left of the war...

Lady Alice Longbottom thought about this as she wearily observed her oldest and Roslyn play. Because it _was_ her name, a beautiful one as well, no matter what childish whim had caused her to try and go by ‘James’. She vividly remembered how Lily had explained her choices, back when her child had been a baby, more than six years ago. That it was a tradition in the maternal family of her favourite redheaded to christen the daughters after flowers, Lily’s mother was called ‘Calla’, her sister ‘Petunia’...

She missed her best friend immensely.

Looking at her orphaned child again she renewed her vow to not let a _Death Eater_ raise her at the other end of the world. She had changed so much already and she didn’t approve in the slightest. The name, her behaviour and even her hairstyle! Her black hair was braided like usual, but her bangs covered almost all of the right side of her cute face. And the scar. Alice had no idea how it might have healed, the girl had not allowed her to inspect it.

The nerve of Severus! Now was the time to teach her that looks were only superficial! How was she to learn this and similar important lessons when _her godfather_ did not break such habits?

And she had asked Dumbledore about that supposed _Academy_, apparently the teachers there had a disturbingly lax attitude towards dark magic. Alice shock her head at the mere thought, alchemy was already stretching it, but elemental magic, scrying, _bloodmagic_? It was a good thing disciplines of that kind were dying out in Great Britain since they stopped teaching them at Hogwarts. And now a girl that was like a niece - even a second daughter to her, should be exposed to such vile practices?

She was not allowing this to happen and Dumbledore was on their side, things would be fine. With any luck Rose might already spend Yule where she belonged.

Meanwhile James paid only minimal attention to Neville’s enthusiastic rambling about his new dragon blood tree seedling. As interesting as she considerate the plant, Alice was acting so strangely, her instincts and Tom both insisted to keep an eye on her.

“She really is a Gryffindor. She might as well hold a sign over her head proclaiming her very thoughts,” her companion mused.

James refrained from rolling her eyes, considering how unsure Neville was sometimes he would probably think the gesture referred to him._ ‘Loudmouth. You are not familiar enough with her, to read her so easily.’_

“But you know her,” he shoot back, “Something is off.”

_‘Is that you speaking, or your general distrust of adults?’_

She had no opportunity to listen to his inevitable grumbling, as Frank came into the living room. He had picked up his work as Auror again and even now that things finally started to calm down, it was still a demanding position.

After Neville and Esther had both gotten a kiss and a hug, he wrapped his arms around James, “Good to see you! - Have you grown?”

She grinned, knowing full well he was teasing her, “Not really. Maybe you are shrinking?”

“You cheeky little girl! I will remember that one,” he still laughed when he sat down on the couch, “Do tell. How are things across the ocean?”

James was happy to fill the Longbottoms in, even more so because Frank was not acting all strange and watched her like… how was Alice looking at her anyway? She didn’t really have a word for it and saved those thoughts until she could discuss uninterrupted with Tom. Therefore she happily described the Academy, the new flat, how they had finished their move on Friday - whatever stuff had happened since she had last seen them.

“I have my staff now and my lessons start on Monday. It will be amazing!”

“Lessons?” Alice asked sharply, making James flinch at the unexpected fierceness, “And what do you mean, ‘_staff’_?”

“I got it a week ago. I’ll get training from now on. My magic is acting up, because of… everything,” she explained a little defensively.

“A _staff__?!”_

“Honey,” Frank tried to calm his wife down, but whatever gnawed on her, she apparently needed to give vent to her emotions, “No, we are not in the middle-age! Severus allows you to run around with a dangerous weapon?!”

Before James had a chance to answer, Alice was ushered into another room by her husband.

“What was that about?” Neville asked confused, while Esther kept contently bubbling in her playpen.

“Hell, if I know,” James shrugged, “Staffs are not used anymore because wands are both more practical for wizardry and easier to conceal - they are not more - or less - dangerous…”

Neville nodded, looking concerned, and then asked, “How is Draco?”

“Vain dragon as usual. His last letter had a very detailed description of his new _‘sparrow’_ toy broom.”

He grinned “Sounds like him alright… I miss him. I miss you both.”

That was too strange of a statement to not comment on it, “I miss you, too, but... correct me, if I am wrong but you two still live on the same continent?”

“But Mum and Dad don’t want me to play with him anymore. They say Aunt Cissy is bad to be around. I hate it!”

James stared at him and then at Tom, because that had made no sense at all. Sadly, he looked as clueless as her, “I have no idea what he is talking about. But I do not like the sound of it.”

A familiar thrilling caught James’ attention; she would recognise Fawkes song everywhere. And when the phoenix was here, Dumbledore could not be far behind.

The living room of the manor was connected to the large hallway and the stairs through an open doorway, it was easy to see the elder Longbottoms and the esteemed headmaster going to the upper floors. That begged investigation.

“Nev, can you keep everyone busy? While I see what the adults are up to?”

Her friend - brother, really - nodded instantly, “Don’t worry about it, I know just the thing!”

“Thank you.”

The war had ended, the headquarter was no longer crammed with people, but James knew it was advisable to stay _‘under the radar’_ as Sirius once put it. Benji, Lorelei and Caradoc were too caught up in their discussion about Quidditch to really notice her, but then again, they probably thought she was going to one of the many bathrooms.

A load noise from the winter garden reassured her that the others would be busy for a while as she hushed up the stairs, carefully avoiding the squeaking places. Frank’s office was just down the hallway and she heard muffled voices. As fast as she dared, she crept closer, pressing herself against the wall right next to the door that stood ajar.

“And she has a staff! Albus, I don’t want her _there_!” Alice spoke strongly, James could picture her standing in the room, hands on the desk as she leaned forward.

“I see, my dear,” Dumbledore _sounded_ calming, but the six-year-old suspected he was here to throw even more wood in the fire. Her opinion of him had taken a sharp dive since the funeral.

“Severus is her godfather, there is no second way about it. His rights are protected as if she was his daughter.”

_‘But?’ _\- “But?” James and Tom silently prompted as one.

Never one to disappoint expectations, the headmaster proceeded, “I plan to introduce a law to the Wizengamot. It will aim to reduce the legal rights of godparents in general. Once it’s passed the transfer of the custody from Severus to you two will be easy.”

_‘You underhanded bastard!’_

“Is.... this really the way to go?” Frank sounded worried, “I mean… she seems content. Happy even, to be at the Academy and that she can learn. She lost her parents and Sirius. And Remus has left to go sulking Merlin-knows-where! If we tear her out, just after she has a little stability again, we will do more damage than good.”

“But they are teaching _dark magic_, Frank! And Severus is probably encouraging her!”

_‘This could not be further from the truth…’_

Tom looked at her, eyebrows raised, “Knowing he was a Death Eater, it’s not that far of a shot.”

_‘Sev was only truly angry at me one time. When he caught me with a book on curses.’_

“…What was your punishment?”

_‘I was in time-out for half an hour and over the next weeks he made me read all four volumes of _“Fluffy bunny Cottencandy and his adventures in Rainbow-Land”._ And I had to write a summery on every chapter.’ _James shuddered at the memory. She liked furry little things alright, but these books had been a overly bright, glimmering nightmare.

“When will you introduce the law?” Alice urgent voice made the children focus on the problem at hand again.

“I have already started a first draft. I plan to propose it within the next year, by then we can talk with all our allies. They will support it, the godparent-rights are too outdated to remain anyway. We might need a few votes from the neutral block on our side as well, the old crowd clings jealously to all of their precious _traditions_.”

Frank signed loudly inside the office, “James has already claimed her Ladyship, Albus. She will have a say in who gets custody of her.”

“Another thing a responsible guardian would’ve never allowed. Far too much on the shoulders of a young girl.”

“I think Narcissa has a point.” Tom mused with a grin, “He is probably angry how she is your proxy and somewhere in the neutral-dark block now,” He liked the witch and how knowledgeable she was on politics, stuff that still went _far_ over James’ head. For the time being she would just trust her aunt and friend.

“Lady Euphemia Potter is too old to be Head of House,” Frank was again speaking against both his wife and Dumbledore, James actually considered to keep him on her Yule-present-list. “Not to forget,” he continued, “She is her grandmother and as far as I am aware, she approves of Severus.”

Alice huffed, “What a surprise. A dark witch - a _Black_ \- enjoys the idea of a Death Eater raising her heir. She has probably done her parenting with curses! It’s only thanks to Fleamont their son turned out a decent human being.”

_‘I will never call you ‘Aunt’ again, not even when hell freezes over!’ _James thought fuming in silent anger. She was not as close to her grandmother as she wished, but she her father had been an adored only-child, just like her. And both Fleamont and Euphemia had fought Grindelwald in the Second World War, this she knew for a fact.

“James?”

_‘Not now, Tom. Between all this hate might be something useful.’ _

“Sure, but…” she looked in the direction his raised arm was pointing. She barely kept herself from cursing out load: Alastor ‘Mad-eye’ Moody. When had the Auror arrived? Had she known him in the house she would have started diversions specifically for him! At least five!

He mentioned her to come over silently and she reluctantly left her listening post. Not talking the two walked down the stairs and he lead her to the kitchen.

“Get comfortable, lass,” he sat, taking a deep gulp from his hipflask while James asked the houseelf in charge, for tea. Once she had a steaming cup in front of her and was finished mixing in a precise amount of milk and honey, he spoke again, “Now, what was that about?”

“Alice was acting strange. I was curious why she, Frank and Dumbledore were meeting here.” It had no use playing dump with him, he saw through lies like they were made of glass. 

“And you unleashed the green-thumbed little horror?”

She shrugged, grinning widely, “You taught me how important a good diversion tactic is.”

“Yeah, lass. For escaping dangerous situations, not to eavesdrop conversations out of nosiness,” he chided between two more gulps. James nodded at the hipflask, unable to rein her curiosity, “You once said, you would reveal what’s in there, when the war is over.”

“Painkillers, water, herbs and a shot of Firewhiskey.” he explained without batting an eyelash, “They got your hackles up rather badly. Care to share?”

“If he tells you on, the advantage we just won is lost,” Tom spoke before she could answer. His words made her hesitate and at the same time berated herself for even questioning Alastor’s trustworthiness. How often had he protected her? Countless days she had spent with him, listening to his lessons since he of course insisted to do something _useful_ if he had to ‘guard the next generation’. Her first spell she had learnt from him.

“What’s wrong, lass? Don’t want to tell me?”

“I do. But… will you speak with the headmaster about it?” If he decided to take Dumbledore into his confidence, she might be able to convince them she only heard Alice badmouthing her grandmother. But it would be a long shot at best.

Moody raised his eyebrows at the question, because the slip of a girl did not sound like a kid afraid of a punishment for eavesdropping. She was too… _serious_. A month ago he would’ve sworn the little troublemaker didn’t know what that word meant, or if, only to make a pun of it with Sirius’ name.

“You have to trust me on this, lass. Tell me and I will decide.”

Death-green eyes watched him and without missing a beat she replied, “It’s not you. But I don’t trust Dumbledore anymore.”

He had half expected something like that to happened, but still, it was bad. Albus had talked about the girl’s living arrangements with him. In the light of the possibility of Voldemort not being truly dead…

Alastor was the first to admit it, Snape deserved a life-time at Azkaban, and everyone bowing to a Dark Lord should be serving his sentence. The potions master had changed his loyalties, true, and he could respect a man risking death and torture for a friend and his goddaughter. He was still a murderer.

He watched the scarred girl sitting across from him, his favourite little student, and wanted to cringe at the knowledge the person she adored and looked up above everyone else was the _‘Potioneer of death’_. A man who had thrown open the gates to hell on the battlefield.

The ministry’s pardon was signed and stamped, the Auror would have to accept it and move to other prey.

But he disagreed with his old friend. Snape was_ the one _person to raise her. Alastor doubted the boy could’ve loved his goddaughter more if he tried, if she had been born his own flash and blood. He knew for a fact she was James Potter’s daughter, since he had made a paternity test a long time ago, just out of sheer curiosity. And because he had witnessed the Death Eater happily talking nineteen to the dozen to a baby that was in no way able to understand any of his bubbling.

Albus wanted to protect and shelter the girl, so she _‘could have a childhood’_, pretending the train had not left the station once Lily had dropped dead in front of her. Snape knew Voldemort was alive, he was not one to allow her to become an entitled, famous little princess. He would support her in all the right ways, so she would grow to be as exceptional she was promising to be.

Alastor hated the prophecy. But a _messiah_ (and how he loathed the very word, the mantle the girl might have to carry like a damn honour, not like the millstone it was around her neck) trained by a Death Eater was probably exactly what they needed once the next war started.

His old friend was too soft, wanting “the country to heal” instead of rounding up the dark underlings left to throw the whole lot into prison. He could already feel how it would bite them all a few years down the road, if they didn’t do something now.

The question was: What had the lighter-than-light Longbottoms and Albus cooked up to make James look like they had tried to kill something cute and fluffy?

_A custody-battle_, he answered himself, _that would probably do the trick._

“Not fancy living here, lass?”

He was not above admitting how he enjoyed her slack-jawed expression. Sure, she was bright, but she was still a kid.

“I won’t even _ask_ \- Dumbledore wants to propose a new law, cutting rights of godparents - namely Sev.”

He mused over her answer for a moment, taking another sip from his hipflask, “And granted I will not tell him you know already - What can _you_ do about it?”

It was the kind of challenge he had proposed often since she was able to walk.

_“I am a bad guy, her to kidnap you, what can you do about it?” - “Scream like there is no tomorrow. Kick you as hard in your groin as I can! Run away.”_

_“I have a wand trained at you, what can you do about it?” - “Use magic to pull the carpet from under you. Dodge any curse and run.”_

_‘What can I do about it?’_ she asked herself with a feeling of uselessness, _‘Probably nothing…’_

Tom made an unimpressed clicking-sound next to her and she barely managed not to look at him. Alastor would notice and contrary to anyone else, he didn’t allow such things to slide.

“You have a far better hand than you gave yourself credit for,” her friend said from her right and explained when he sensed her confusion, “Tell your aunt Narcissa.”

_‘She has a good amount of power, but that’s not enough.’_

“But she can plan with her allies now. They will be prepared for Dumbledore’s stunt.”

A smile made way on her face._ “The old crowd clings jealously to all of their precious traditions”,_ the headmaster said during the talk. She had forgotten how this law would not only affect her…

“I’ll tell Aunt Cissy and let her do what she can do best,” she answered Alastor confidently, with a grin on her face, “Playing politics.”

The Auror laughed at that.

o ~ O ~ o

_ Morning_

_29th November_

_Hall of travel, Sylvan Academy, Steward Island, New Zealand_

James signed as she brushed ashes from her robes. She loved using the floo-network, but right now it had a hard time brightening her mood.

After leaving Longbottom Manor early (Alastor had covered that and she was thankful for it), she had gone to the Malfoys’ home. Narcissa was furious upon hearing what the Dumbledore, Alice and Frank wanted to do, even more because Draco’s letters to Neville had steadily came back unopened for over two weeks and finally she knew why. She had not been happy, that her honorary niece was eavesdropping and spying either, but murmured something approving about “Slytherin tendencies”.

Her promise to fix the mess had settled a great deal of worry with James.

It had been almost night when she had left them and decided to visit her grandmother shortly. Just to thank her for her new furniture in person.

As she exited the hall of travel she tried to repress how bad the Dowager Lady of House Potter had looked. Euphemia was old, yes, she even had a few years on Dumbledore, but James was far from ready to bury another member of her family, as estranged as she was to them.

Okay, that douchebag Kendrick she was able to live without, but she could not honestly wish Henry to lose his father, despite how much of an arse he had made of himself.

_‘Dad would know what to do...’_

A persistent thought these days. Her mom had been brilliant at brewing potions and magic in general, but she was not really a people’s person, different from her dad…

Tasia Nagi, had told her how it was normal to become sad within one moment to another, she still whipped the tears away, angry with herself for starting crying at the middle of the campus.

It had taken a herculean effort to persuade Sev to let her wander around on her own. And only after Thannor had explained him that the last incident someone on the Academy grounds had _tried_ to do something malicious to a child the wards had fried his hands off.

James liked the idea of complete safety, but even more she enjoyed the freedom it gave her. She was allowed to go to the library on her own, she could spent as much time wandering in the sun as she wished, she had only to head her curfew. After living in a rather strict confinement for as long as she remembered, it was heaven.

She didn’t want that privilege revoked because her godfather overreacted about red, puffy eyes. And she would not put it past him, not when she had to spend three hours at the clinic last week, after she told him she had a mild headache. Charlotte Van Kirk was very nice, but she had her fill of healers for the next few years.

Coming to a crossway, she thought about making a detour to the library but decided against it, following the gravel path towards west. The large house with the apartments for teachers was one of the newer buildings and a lot smaller than it should be, considering how big the flats _actually_ were. It stood far away from the two student hostels as well, pretty much on the other side of the campus.

Greeting some residence she knew by face, she went into the elevator, not feeling any motivation to climbing twelve flights of stairs right now. The door to their apartment looked like everyone else’s, but James already felt at home there.

“Probably because you have got the key for _this_ one.” Apparently Tom decided she had had enough of a break from his wise-cracking.

_‘Sometimes I suspect you are a fun-sucking vampire.’ _

“How do you know I am not?” The way he asked back made her snort.

She pulled her shoes off in the entrance and put her key on its hook before she shuffled trough the small stack of mail in the box. Sylvan had a rather clever way to manage the postage problem, that all international schools had. All parcels and letters addressed to the Academy were redirected to the _Europäische Zentrale für magischen Briefwechsel und Paketzustellung_ in Frankfurt (Charlotte was fluent in German, but James would not attempt saying that name out load). From there, everything went to the Owlery Main Office in Wellington, where someone from the staff picked it up twice a day. Once in the Academy, everything was magically sorted and sent to the post-boxes of the recipient.

Redblade had mailed her the first of many monthly bank statements and Dora had written her from Hogwarts. Ever since the funeral the older girl tried her very best to cheer her up somehow, her new attempt was another twelve paged letter, considering the thickness of the envelope. James found the caring of her cousin Merlin-knows-how-many-times-removed quite endearing. All in all it was nothing too exiting for her. Severus had decided than she would no longer receive fan-mail of any kind, which she was happy about.

Most of the letters were nice, some expressing sincere condolence for the loss of her parents, many almost creepily thankful and dripping with a hero-worship she could not understand. But one was apparently written in a rather… disturbing way. She was only allowed to read anything sent by strangers after Severus had deemed it save for her, which pretty much reduced the load by a quarter before it reached her. The way this one letter had made his face turn from ashen to green and then red would’ve been funny, had he not looked ready to murder someone. James was thankful that the writer was one the other end of the planet, else her godfather might’ve ended up in Azkaban after all.

But Lord Thannor had sent her timetable, which was pretty great. And what a chore it had been to convince Severus off her choice of classes! He still thought it was too much, but how could she have resisted? _Theory of magic_ was not even taught at Hogwarts and because it began with the bare basics, there would be no problem for her.

_Latin_ and _English_ were easy sells, he actually approved of those, being of the mind, the earlier a language was learned properly, the better. Severus had no clue why she wanted to learn _Mathematic_, but since that was usually a general neglected part of magical education, it started rather slow and simple as well.

The real deal-breaker was _Elemental Magic_, which had been Lord Thannor’s idea. According to him the discipline was an excellent tool to asses control over ones powers and developing them. Severus had agreed only after Jurriaan Van Kirk (who happened to be the twin brother of Charlotte) had stated James would have one-on-one training with him for at least two years. He instructed most of his pupils this way, especially while studying Elemental Magic. Being an instructor for combat, whose a main emphasis on staff duelling and mundane self-defence, his courses were chronically not full to almost empty. He had happily made room in his schedule for a student, young as James was, that could not wait to learn.

The last bit on James’ plate was Mrs Nagi teaching her Occlumency, additional to their weekly meetings. Again Lord Thannor had encouraged the idea, this time because he hoped she would get her temperament under control in a healthy, supervised way before _‘she sets the whole Academy on fire’_. James had said nothing to his comment, since earlier that day she had accidentally set some curtains in his office ablaze.

All in all, her timetable was good to keep her busy.

_‘Hopefully so busy, Sev will realise, it would be absurd for me to have a _babysitter_…’_

“I doubt you are considerate mature enough by him, to be alone for long hours,” Tom provided gleefully unhelpful.

James glared at him, “I won’t allow some well-meaning person, who doesn’t know me, to treat me like… a _child_!”

“You are six years old, darling.”

“Whatever!”

She went to look for her godfather and as expected found him in his office, which doubled as his personal lab. Judging by the mass of papers on his desk, he was still working on his lesson plan for the coming semester. The potions master that retired had been graciously enough to give him his old records, but Severus felt the need to change a few little things. It was his way to say, he would do a complete overhaul to the syllabus, simply because he could do it. James knew he was genuinely enjoying the preparations for teaching students, who were both familiar with the basics and eager to learn from him.

“I am back,” she announced happily before she went over to give him a hug.

He smiled at her, obviously happy to see her, “Corbillat, how was your visit at Longbottom Manor?”

_‘They try taking me away from you and I hate them for it.’_

“Neville is unhappy, his parents won’t let him see or write Draco. I am playing go-between - We already made up pen-names!”

“To confuse the Longbottom’s even more?”

“No, because it’s cool.” He laughed at her logic but then became serious again, “And what is it that you don’t want to tell me?”

“… This is really annoying. You and Alastor just _knowing_ these things.”

Severus merely smirked at her grimace, “I have known you since the day you were born. The day I can’t see, when you are hiding something is far, far away.”

James shook her head, not happy she was forced to ruin the mood, “Well, about that…”

After she was done explaining he looked grim, but not as angry as she had expected, “Aunt Cissy floo-called you, didn’t she?”

“While you were at your grandmother’s,” he admitted easily, “I was worried you had kept something to yourself. I don’t want you shoulder such things alone.”

“No, I told her everything… Aside for the time you punished me with horrible, boring, _tasteless_ books.” She glared at that last part, making him snicker. She had complained about the novels for months after, “Maybe I should let you read the fifth for spying and getting caught.”

“Tell me you are joking! Please!”

o ~ O ~ o

Severus had been teasing her, for which James was deeply thankful. She laughed it off and left her godfather to his planning, wondering what she could do with the rest of day. She decided a mid-morning-nap was in order to prevent herself from passing out later, sun-hangover-potion did that sometimes, she had found out the hard way, just like her aunt Cissy.

Before lunch-time Tom bugged her into playing chess again. He was very good at it, despite the fact he had no memory of how and when he had learnt it. And it was one of the few games they were able to enjoy together, since Tom could neither hold cards nor roll dices or anything like that.

She had taken the third battering in a row at the time Severus decided to check on her, “I am… you know _chess_?”

“Read about, taught myself,” she murmured, pretending to concentrate on the board.

“And you are playing against yourself?” For everybody else it seemed so, since Tom had to tell her where to move his figures.

“Yeah,” she placed the Tom’s knight, wondering what kind of trap he was setting up now. Not that his fancy tactics were really useful in a game with her, James was, in her own humble opinion, absolutely dreadful at chess.

Severus shook of his bewilderment, “Whatever entertains you. Concerning your babysitter -”

“Nooo!” She wasn’t aware of it, but he was glad seeing her reaction was childish whining, “We are talking about what? Half an hour?”

“_Five hours_, Corbillat. And no, you won’t be alone so long every afternoon.” He knew she felt like she was rather mature, but his main concern was how she might be losing herself in books and comics. From personal experience he had concluded how it would do her social skills absolutely no good. It was bad enough that she had her classes with teenagers to young adults from the next term on.

But this certain mischievous glint in her eyes (all her father’s) screamed her intent of driving any caretaker up the walls until they would throw the towel sooner rather than later. Severus had no illusions about his goddaughter’s capability in that regard, not with Sirius having such a large part in her upbringing.

A different approach was necessary, “You do like Jurriaan and Charlotte, right?”

“He is great and so is she. Without her clinic-robe I might add, why?”

Severus grinned quietly to himself about that postscript, “And Faramond and Isa?”

James knew both of Jurriaan’s children, his son was just half a year older than her and his younger sister was three. She hadn’t had the opportunity to spend much time with them yet, but he was one of the very few children her age at the Academy, the two were almost bound to become friends. And Isa was a cute little thing that reminded her of Esther.

She still wondered why they had switched the topic of conversation, “Why?”

“Jurriaan and another teacher, Sierra McNamara have the same problem as I: What to do with our _precious_ _youngsters_ while we are at work.”

She rolled her eyes at his words, mainly because both of them knew how taxing he thought almost every child not called ‘James Acacia Potter’ or ‘Draco Lucius Malfoy’.

“The idea is that Faramond, Isa, Leon and you spend the afternoon together, do your homework, have fun, whatever. One of the three of us adults watching are you until the others are done with the lectures for the day.”

James looked at him, waiting for him to tell her it was a joke, although she knew he was serious, “You want to herd _four_ kids? _Several_ times a week?”

He shrugged, “I don’t see a problem.”

His goddaughter could not decide whether to laugh or to scream, “You hate children! They are load and stupid and -”

“I don’t _hate_ children!”

“You find them exhausting to deal with!” She threw her arms up and the movement catapulted the chessboard across the bed, causing Tom to yelp.

_‘Sorry!’ _she grinned sheepishly, taking care not to look to long at him.

He glared at her, “I was about to win!”

_‘You don’t say…’_

Severus was catching both their attention again, “I am pretty decent handling you and Draco!”

“Yeah, but our little dragon is already on his way to be a prim and proper pureblood including the manners and decorum, Aunt Cissy finds so important. And we know something is wrong with me.”

“Don’t say that!” Severus came over to pick her up, “Why would you think of yourself this way?”

“But it’s true…”

_‘Something is broken since Mom and Dad died.’_

“Something is different,” she said instead, “More than the colour of my eyes. Or the scar.”

“Corbillat, a lot has happened in a very short time. There is _absolutely nothing_ wrong with you,” he told her earnestly, “You are too clever for your own good, but that is no news to me.”

James smiled, which of course he could not see, hiding against his robes as she did.

“I still don’t need a babysitter. But spending time with Faramond and Leon sounds fun.”

He let out a sigh of relief, making her snicker, “Scared for my wannabe-caretakers?”

Severus grinned, “Let’s just pretend that you wouldn’t have driven them crazy one after another by means of manipulation, pranks and _‘accidental’_ magic.”

o ~ O ~ o

_She was in the headquarter of the Order of the phoenix, sitting at the large table in the dining room. But something was wrong with the familiarity of it. _

_All things Draco liked were piled close to him, nothing new so far, and he kept levitating more blueberry-jam to himself, despite the fact many glasses rolled around on the floor. Neville talked about his plants, dirt streak on his face, and she could watch as the cress salad Alice had freshly made this morning growing slowly but surely out of its bowl. And the orchids on the windowsill were already reaching the ceiling. Alastor eyes his toast with purple honey quite sceptically and somehow she knew she had done it, her magic had that knack for changing colours._

_It was always nice to be at the headquarter, the order-members had been more relaxed, happier when the younger generation was around. Their presence was a reminder during the war, just what was on stake. And now that, while they had suffered losses, it was over. _

_Even Alastor was less grumpy than usual (despite another part of him ‘missing’ - the Death Eater responsible was now buried under the sandy earth of Azkaban). Good-naturally he complained about the rookies needing him as a babysitter for the day. This whole scene should have been warm and welcoming, but everything terrified James and she didn’t know why. _

_Draco munched happily on his toast, grinning at the old Auror, “How is it different from any other day?”_

_Moody mock-glared at him, “That's the problem, you can’t let kids alone for a second.”_

_“Weren’t you leaving us on our own just a week ago?” Neville chimed in with a grin to match Draco’s._

_“You are reasonable.”_

_“Where is Sev?” James asked, knowing now what was missing from this happy get-together._

_“Now my dear,” Dumbledore looked at her with blue, twinkling eyes. Why was he suddenly here? Why was the tablecloth chequered now?_

_“You can’t see him anymore. It’s only in your best interest. We decided it.”_

_The room had steadily grown darker and everyone but the headmaster was now barely more than a black outline._

_She opened her mouth to disagree, to scream, to plea, anything, but nothing came out. Not even a whimper. Hopelessly she shook her head, fear creeping up her spine._

_“Now, now, Roslyn,” someone chided softly from the seat opposite to Dumbledore. She didn’t want to look at him. She knew it was him. But her gaze moved his direction anyway. She tried to scream but her voice was failing her._

_“Albus knows best,” Voldemort grinned at her, blood dripping out of the corners of his mouth, red like his irises, a stark contrast against the white of his skin, “You should do as he tells you, little girl.” Then he took another bite of Lily’s throat. Her mom’s dead, grey eyes watched her._

The next thing James knew was how she was screaming her lungs out and someone shock her awake, “It’s alright, Corbillat. It was a nightmare.”

She tried to level her breath, feeling her sweat-drenched pyjama cling to her skin, “Yeah… bad one…”

It took some time for her to calm down, her godfather murmuring reassurances while he held her close. It helped, this time she didn’t lose her voice, not even for a few hours, “I really need to clean up.”

Severus waited for her in the kitchen, when she came, wearing her fleeciest nightwear, looking like death warmed over, despite the hot shower. Wordlessly he offered her a cup of hot milk, made the fancy way she and her mother loved, with honey, a bit of cardamom and lemon peel.

“What time is it anyway?”

“Six o’clock,” Severus answered, “Do you want to try and sleep again?”

“Nope,” James shook her head. The dream had been too disturbing and a potion was no help if she couldn’t fall asleep.

Her godfather looked a little worried, “Your classes start today.”

“I will be doing fine,” her list for the day was not exactly short, but most of it was getting to know her teachers and their study-plans for her, so the _‘real’_ learning come February would not overwhelm her.

“Very well - Want me to read you something?”

“The two towers!”

“Colour me surprised,” Severus murmured with a smile.

James had a hard time keeping her mind on the fellowship while they travelled to Isengard, her thoughts kept wandering to her nightmare. Tasia had told her interpretation of dreams was an art in itself, but this one seemed rather obvious to her. Annoyed she shoved it to the back of her head to deal with it later, closed her eyes and let Sev’s voice wash over her.

At half past seven her godfather deemed it time for breakfast and afterwards sent James to dress. She almost ran to her room in excitement, because, while she would be an ‘honour student’ until next term, she was already allowed to wear the official school uniform. And she loved it. Once she had donned the light grey tunic, dark brown trousers and greenish-blue dragon-hide boots, she gave herself an once-over in the mirror. The attire held an air of adventure for her and despite her age, she didn’t look like a child playing dress-up. Last but not least she took the hooded, fur trimmed cloak, the Academy crest embroidered both on the front right side and bigger on the backside. Warming charms were weaved into the black fabric, so students and teachers got away with wearing relatively thin clothing.

“What do you think, Tom?”

“You look… presentable,” he teased, laughing when she glared at him, “No need to worry, it really suits you.”

“Thank you. Any plans for while I am busy?” He being around and commenting on stuff, as useful as most of it was, wreaked havoc on her attention span and they both knew it.

“Don’t know - Maybe I’ll decorate… my room?” It was a question because, yes, James had told him to make an area his, but it was still _her_ mind palace. She had argued how she could not access it anyway until her Occlumency had reached a certain stage and he spend his time there when he was not joining her in the ‘real’ world.

She smiled at him, “That sounds great - Show me once you are done, I am curious.”

“Will do,” he agreed grinning, “Have a good day. Don’t set anyone on fire.”

James watched him fade away and then made her way to the kitchen, “How do I look?”

Severus nodded with approval, “Prepared for whatever might come. Your staff?”

“And my backpack!” She showed him both proudly, “Ready for the day!”

“Good. You are -”

James beat him to his plans for the day, “Meeting Lord Thannor in his office at eight thirty. I will be introduced to my teachers for the reminder of term and talk over what exactly each of my subjects entails. We eat lunch here and afterwards I have my first lesson with Professor Van Kirk. Dinner is at his apartment, because we are invited so I can get to know Faramond and Isa. Did I miss anything?”

“I don’t think so. Very good.”

“Are you nervous?” she asked suddenly, catching him of guard.

_“Should_ I be nervous?”

“You are going to meet all the teaching staff today. Not only those of your faculty, but _all_ of them. And Van Kirk - Charlotte - told me you talk over each other’s lesson plans.” She shrugged, the gesture reminding Severus of her mother, “I would be _hysterical_.”

“Indeed. But I have braved more difficult situations, I am positive I will survive a _staff_ _meeting_.” What he said was all true, but if he had not been a master Occlumence, he would’ve paced with nerves.

She simply looked at him, “But you like it here, that’s different from Hogwarts.”

Severus watched his astute goddaughter for a moment, before raising his coffee at her in silent agreement.


	10. It takes a village...

_Morning, 30th November, Apartment building, Sylvan Academy, Steward Island, New Zealand_

“Hi, James!”

She turned around to see how had called after her, smiling when she saw him, “Hi, Faramond,” she greeted him, only to be reminded upon seeing his grimace, that he didn’t care for his full name. “Sorry, _Ari_.”

“Much better,” he easily agreed, “Starting your lessons today?”

“Yep - What about you? Of to _Spring_?” Said school in Wellington provided the knowledge needed for institutions like Hogwarts, for those who weren’t homeschooled.

The two children went down the stairs together, “Yeah - You are lucky, Mrs Lance, our teacher, is a right _dragon_. She gives us homework over the weekend!”

James grinned to herself, “Did you do it?”

“I… started it,” he admitted sheepishly, running his fingers through his almost white hair, “School isn’t really my thing. All the stuff is just so boring!”

Amicable chatting until they parted ways, Faramond went to the hall of travel and she was making way to the main-building. Knowing the outlet by now, she moved swiftly passed the great library and towards Lord Thannor’s office.

She knocked and was answered immediately, “Come in.”

Upon entering James paused for a moment, still in awe for the sheer _magic_ filling the room. The thick Persian rugs, changing pattern and colours so slowly and subtly, that people not in the know tended to look at least twice only to question their sanity. Most available space of wall was used for either bookshelves or paintings; landscapes, a portrait of the founders of Sylvan; and James personal favourite: A view of the Academy, back when the building was in process.

One day she would pester him to tell just what all those filigree instruments were for, occupying every surface not littered by books. She liked his office because all else, it was still welcoming, inviting even.

“Good morning, Lord Thannor.”

“A good morning to you, too, James,” he greeted her, smiling warmly and after a moment to take her in he added, “Our uniform was apparently created with you in mind.”

“Thank you! I like the cloak best. It’s beautiful - and really comes in handy. And the fur is so fluffy!”

Thannor chuckled at her enthusiasm, “Good to know - Take a seat, young Lady.” He called her this since she had accepted her title, his more respectful and much less condescendingly version of Dumbledore’s never-ending “my dear”.

It’s was subtle easing the six year old into the role that had fallen to her, which had been Tasia’s idea. James’ mind healer was not exactly worried at the moment, but as she insisted, the little things mattered.

He gestured to the two cosy looking chairs in front of the fireplace. A tray appeared on the coffee table between them, “I understand you like cherry tea?”

“Yes, thank you,” she accepted a cub with the deliciously smelling drink and sat down.

“How are you feeling?” The headmaster asked her, while adding sugar to his own cup. He enquired about her well-being occasionally and by now James knew it was honest concern and interest. He and Severus were still annoyingly vague regarding the exact nature of her previous sickness, but she was aware how close they kept taps on her.

And both had promised to explain once life had truly settled, which was why she was content waiting, for a certain amount of time at least.

“I feel… torn,” James admitted after a moment. Talking with Ms Nagi was one thing, Lord Thannor was another, “But all in all I am fine.” she said finally and as an afterthought added, “Mostly.”

She stared into her tea like its depths held the answers to all the questions of the universe. On a really bad day, only two months ago, her father had done the same with a glass of Firewhiskey.

James was glad that he didn’t know about the frequent nightmares haunting her sleep, how they still rendered her mute for hours at times. How she so fiercely missed her parents she sometimes cries so hart breathing was almost impossible... 

He nodded, not asking what was on her mind, darkening her gaze so much, “If you say so. Please don’t feel like you can’t approach me with anything. Even if it is just sitting silently, drinking tea.”

“Okay…” James hesitated a moment before deciding she might as well take his words to face value, “May I ask you a personal question?”

He smiled thinly, “Of course. Through I reserve not to answer.”

“I understand that ‘Thannor’ is your first name. I was wandering why you… ignore your surname?”

He signed a little, “Will you believe if I said it has a nicer ring to it than ‘Lord Winter’?”

She tilted her head to the side, watching him, “I would agree. And assume you don’t want to talk about it.”

Her words teased a weary chuckle from him, “You are truly beyond your years. To answer: It’s rather personal, yes. And not something I will discuss with a child, mature as you are. - Why do you ask?”

“I was curious. And I hoped it might be the same reason I had for ditching my first name.”

“What is your reason?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know. I just… can’t stand being called _‘Roslyn’_ anymore. It sickens me. Alice addressed me so and I… wanted to run away. - Or scream at her to stop doing it.”

“Have you and Tasia discussed that?”

James nodded, but was clearly was elsewhere with her thoughts, “More than once… - Thank you. For answering my question.” She obviously meant it as a conclusion on the subject and Lord Thannor easily accepted it as such.

“You are quite welcome. Now, shall we meet your teachers?”

She grimaced a little, “Of course. Lead the way.”

“Don’t worry,” the principle stood up, smiling again, “You’ll like the three of them. And they are happy to get to know you.”

o ~ O ~ o

In the Great Library, around one of the desks sat a group of three young people, talking quietly by themselves. Seeing their Principle approaching, they stood up and threw James curious glances.

“I am pleased all of you came,” Thannor greeted them jovially and was answered by a collective murmur of “Of course” - “My pleasure” - “Sure”.

He nodded and mentioned at his young company, “This is James Potter. As I told you, she will join the Academy herself come next term.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,” the child greeted them, encouraged by the fact all three were smiling openly at her and in their late teens to early twenties.

Lord Thannor introduced each of his students, he started mentioning towards the girl who, James noticed, had a brown and a blue eye.

“This is Ciel Perrault. You might have met her mother, Madam Perrault, she is one of our professors. She teaches you both English and Latin.”

“You may call me Ciel,” the girl, she could not be older than seventeen, answered speaking with a soft accent James knew was french.

“David Hawke is currently in the first year of his mastery and will help you learning Theory of Magic.”

The lean blond raised his hand in greeting, “Dave is fine. My dad is the Quidditch trainer.”

James peeked up at the mention of her favourite sport, “Cool. Are you not… really busy staring your mastery?”

“It’s the first year and I’ll get a mark for the extra work. It’ll also be a great review for me. Only if you can teach something -”

“You have truly understood it,” Thannor agreed, pride obvious in his voice.

“And Ilya Vasilev will cover Mathematics.”

The young man was the tallest of them and around Ciel’s age, “Ilya. Fair warning, if you keep the course, you’ll end up with my dad.”

James crooked her head at that, “So all of you are all children of professors?”

“Just like you are,” David replied, “It’s kind of a tradition.”

They sat down to talk about the plans for the next three months and while Lord Thannor stayed he kept mostly silent and let his students do it their way.

The main point was to figure out what needed to be covered before the start of term.

Ciel was impressed when she saw that James was able to both read and write at an advanced level, which made her overhaul the plan she had already draft. She was not at all unhappy about it.

Theory of Magic started really basic at the Academy, so she and David had every freedom to create a solid grounding for the subject.

In Mathematics was a lot which needed to be cover, but Ilya was confident they would manage it.

James also learnt some interesting titbits from the teens.

How David’s chosen mastery was Alchemy and that he was not above grilling her for infos about Severus. _Potions_ was one of the three most important courses he took and apparently a change of teachers could spell doom for a student. She happily exchanged the _“Insiders guide to get on Professor Snape’s good side”_ (I.e. be punctual and respectful; read ahead; work concentrated and _don’t_ mess around) for what that mastery entailed, because her inaccurate knowledge about it was based on novels and comics. Alchemy, the way he described it sounded fascinating to James.

Ilya and Ciel had been friends since they started in Beauxbatons together and had passed the N.E.W.T.s in June. Also, both their parents were notorious for being the strictest teachers on the campus.

She had already received her admission for a mastery in _Magizoology_; deciding for Sylvan because Newt Scamander, was head of faculty here, making it easily the best in the world.

Her oldest friend had followed her, but Ilya was unsure of what career to pursue, despite his excellent marks (Ciel’s words, not his). He would start a “free year”, which meant he was allowed to visit any course catching his fancy, as a chance to find out where is true talent and leanings laid.

When time for lunch came around James had both a list of books to read and the feeling that her lessons would be great. She skipped all the way back home.

Severus waited for her in their flat, over tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches she told him all what had occurred and needled him how the staff meeting had went. His turn was in the afternoon, but he was happy to tell her about the teachers she already knew.

Lord Thannor’s was not teaching anymore, the organisationally demands were simply too time-consuming, same applied to his daughter/assistant principal Régine.

Her mindhealer Tasia offered courses on _History_ as well as on _Herbology_, her emphasis was on healing plants. Charlotte Van Kirk, head of the _Combat_ faculty, focused on wands while her twin excelled at the more obscure branches like Elemental Magic and Staff-duelling.

Curious as James was she also asked him about the parent’s of ‘her’ teachers, but only Jefferson Hawke had already presented his plans; Re-organization of the Quidditch teams and different courses on flying. Severus was acutely aware how his goddaughter’s eyes glowed with excitement by the mere mention of the sport. He dearly hoped to keep her away from the pitch for a couple of years more at least.

After lunch James curled up on the coach, her favourite plush in her arms, taking a nap since her night-sleep had been cut short by the nightmare. She didn’t want to get sleepy half-way through her first lesson in Elemental Magic.

o ~ O ~ o

_Late afternoon, 30th November, training area, Sylvan Academy, Steward Island, New Zealand_

James waited, she had come a little early after all and looked at the different targets and practice-dummies. The sand crunched under her shoes as she walked around, wondering what Van Kirk would teach her.

“Over her, kiddo!” Jurriaan had arrived, noticing the girl’s pensiveness, “Nice to see you - Shall we begin?”

She came, smiling widely, “Yes - What’s first?”

James had met him on several occasions now and liked him. He was less serious than his twin and she knew the carefreeness he showed most of the time reminded her of a dearly missed Sirius.

He mentioned her over to where the duelling cycle was marked with black stones embedded into the ground, “What do you know about Elemental Magic so far?”

“Well... Lord Thannor said it’ll help me control my magic. Not many wizards and witches bother learning anymore... And it’s really cool!”

Jurriaan chuckled, understanding that the excitement in her voice meant the principle had already shown her a thing or two, “Correct. Elemental Magic is demanding, both in power required and concentration needed,” he raised his hand making a flame dancing in his palm, “Flashy as it gets, if you ask me.”

“You don’t use your staff!” James had only ever saw Dumbledore use wandless magic, but for small things, lightening a candle, summoning a parchment…

Her teacher was not denying how much he enjoyed her awestruck expression, grin widening, “No. Not to turn this too theoretical right now, but it is the branch easiest used without a focus.”

By now his student hoped up and down, eyes glowing and tiny sparks appeared around her staff. Another tell-tale sign for Jurriaan which element would be hers to command. Like the shockwave that had destroyed the clinic windows; the occasional floating that Severus had told him about. Those and other burst of her magic, along with her temper made her alignment to _‘Storm’_ rather obvious. A powerful and difficult aliment to have. Potentially as destructive as _Fire_; less stable than both _Wood_ and _Metal_; the more temperamental ‘cousin’ to _Water_. The advantage was its inherent diversity, that it could be used for everything from outright fighting to travelling, even healing magic…

“Let us begin with an exercise. I think you will like it.”

It was a spell he did not often taught at the very start, it was almost a little playful. Over-eager teenagers usually went for something ‘more impressive’, but a certain six-year old who devoured comics about some flying doctor would _love_ it.

“Speak after me, the incarnation is: _Citius altius fortius_.”

James repeated the words, with a pronounced british accent.

He shook his head softly, “This is Latin. It’s important to say it correctly.”

Curious she asked, “And what does it mean?”

“The literal translation is: Fast, high, mighty. - Again.”

It took quiet some tries until he was satisfied, “Good. Now take the staff in both hands, hold it out in front of you - no, with slightly bend elbows. Yes, like that - Now you concentrate. Tell your magic what you want.”

“What _do_ I want?” James asked him shrewdly.

“Float, roughly twenty centimetres above the ground.”

Her eyes went wide with excitement, “This is so cool! …Uh... How much is that in inch?”

“I… actually have no idea,” Jurriaan replied both confused and amused, falling back to showing her the distance using his hand.

She nodded and started to concentrate on the feel of her magic, how warm the wood of her staff felt... She said the spell, careful to speak the words correctly. After a moment of nothing happening there was a light tug upwards, like someone had attempted to pick her up, only to let her go. Or as if she had done a small jump.

“Very good!” Jurriaan praised, for a first try it had been indeed impressive, “And now try again.” 

o ~ O ~ o

James trotted slightly behind Jurriaan, tiered but oh so happy with herself. She had only managed it for a few seconds at time and not more than two inches above the ground, but she had succeeded! She could do it, she would really learn elemental magic and damn if she wouldn’t be the best in it!

“You did very well today,” he praised her just before they reached apartment building.

“Thank you. You are a great teacher!” Her words made him smile.

The flat of the Van Kirks was already lighted, Charlotte was fixing dinner, while Faramond was busy doing his homework (and using the chance to abandon it when his father came in). Isa had drawn with her crayons and now wanted to be picked up by her dad immediately. He ended up carrying her around for the next half an hour.

“How was it?” Charlotte asked lowly, watching smiling as her nephew got company in form of a black-haired six-year-old in learning. Jurriaan had given her a book on the basics of Elemental Magic to read.

“It’s fascinating,” her brother answered, observing them too, “Two hours of training and not a single complain from her - not even a groan. And James managed the floating-spell. She has yet to master it, but it won’t take at all long.”

Charlotte looked him, eyebrows nearly vanishing in her hairline, “Truly? That is… wow!”

“Yeah. She has the talent and apparently the determination to go with it.”

“You sound worried, brother dear. Why?”

He massaged his temple, “A six year old is not suppose to be _determinate_. Her being a little mature is one thing, but she is almost too intelligent and focused.”

She nodded, knowing exactly what he meant, “Tell Tasia, that’s my advice. Don’t forget her background.”

“I can’t imagine Ari or Isa going to all she has dealt with,” his fists clenched at the mere thought, “Really a tough one… Severus, too.”

She grinned at his tone, “Got a thing for the snarky version of tall, dark and handsome?”

“Shush you.”

She gave him a playful shove only to try in vain to fight him off when he started to tickle her in retaliation.

The children looked briefly up at the adult’s shenanigans, snickering by themselves and continued their work, the older boy especially keen on finishing the task. James was quite engaged in her new book, but she allowed Faramond to drag her oft the very moment he was done. They played enchanted orchard, since Isa wanted to join them.

Severus came a short while later, after Isa picked up a second little basket because her first one was overflowing, apologising for the delay.

James was happy to see him, curious what had occupied him when Charlotte had obviously finished hours before him. Her godfather had been to a strategy meeting, so to speak with Narcissa, he told her this later.

But he kept quiet just how worried they were about the resent development. Depending how the chief warlock formulated his bill to reduce the legal rights of godparents it had not that much of a chance to pass. Should the Wizengamot approve however, it would be a full blown catastrophe, mildly put. It meant Severus faced the very real possibility to lose James to the Longbottoms and Dumbledore.

For the evening he perished those thoughts, loving the opportunity to the time spend with his happy goddaughter and, lo and behold, he also enjoyed the company of Charlotte and Jurriaan. They had several shared interests and opinions and all three agreed who Astronomy was an absolutely useless course both at Hogwarts and at Beauxbatons, were the twins had went to school. That let to extend tattling about almost all their former teachers back then.

The children meanwhile spent the time by themselves, listening to low music from the radio and finishing the game. Isa fell asleep at some point, snoring softly on her favourite ottoman. Faramond and James had a little contest of who could make the other giggle harder at the ridiculous drawings they both made.

It was not to late when Severus decided it was time to leave, all of them had their obligations the next day after all.

Later James sat on her bed, already in her pyjamas, she didn’t feel at all tiered, “Tom?”

Within the blink of an eye he sat on her bed, not denting the soft blanket and smiling at her, “Welcome back. How was your day?”

Delightful she told him everything, showing him some of the memories, like of her teachers, practising the new spell…

Tom avidly listened to her and asked his own questions. He would never admit it, but he had missed her, missed spending his time with her.

Proudly he showed her what he had made of his plain room, now the walls were panelled using reddish wood, the floor a soft, cream-coloured carpet. He was not finished completely yet, only a davenport stood at the far end and some (empty) bookshelves waited to be filled. But he had taken care to do it right, without blurred details or crooked edges. _And_ he had spent a good three hours to create a picture of him and James. A memory when she had hugged him for the first time and both of them had laughed. He really liked how it had turned out.

o ~ O ~ o

Somehow from there on, things started to settle.

James positively threw herself into her studies. She loved Jurriaan’s lessons above all else, but Theory of Magic with David was a really close second. She enjoyed Math as well and while she found learning Latin tedious, Ciel was a good at communicating knowledge. Only Occlumency proved to be a hard challenge for her and for several years to come it would be an upwards struggle at best and a dreaded necessity at worst.

The afternoons spent at the McNamara’s and Van Kirk’s respectively went a lot smoother than any of the adults had expected and soon enough the older children considered themselves friends. Leon _loved_ that James’ second name, Acacia, was for his grandmother, a rather famous author; the week following the discovery he was telling everyone about it (wherever they wanted to hear it or not).

Some weekends James spent at Malfoy Manor and occasionally she would visit Euphemia when her grandmother’s health allowed it.

Alice had all but demanded that she came over again, but James had flat out told her she didn’t appreciate how she had bitched about her grandmother. Lady Longbottom had pretty much blown the cover and ranted angrily, how Roslyn would soon live where she truly belonged anyways.

James simply stopped answering her letters.

With his lesson-plans finished, Severus started brewing for the Academy and most of the times he allowed his goddaughter to watch. One evening she helped him chop some ingredients. He began to teach her how to prepare daisy-roots correctly, how to tell the difference between moonshine vines and midnight creepers...

Years later she was never be able to recall when it had shifted from enjoying spending time with Severus to a true fascination for potions. But it turned to be a constant in her life, very much like her godfather himself.

o ~ O ~ o

_Morning, 19th December, Locked Ward for the Instable, St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, London, England_

Sirius Black wandered aimlessly along the corridor. The floor was build like a cloister, he could endlessly walk in cycles around the looked nurse office, drowning in his own thoughts.

As per his request, no one visited him. Remus had tried three times, but than his beloved had given up.

How much Sirius hoped the other Order members took care of him. At least now he could be a part of Roslyn’s - _James’_ life. Severus might be a bastard sometimes, but he would never stoop that low and refuse Remi to see the little girl.

How he missed his goddaughter - _former_ goddaughter, he reminded himself, a painful twinge of both relieve and longing making itself known in his chest.

Sirius yearned for the time before everything had broken apart.

To embrace Remus while they slept; playing with Bambi and the other kids; the bantering he and Severus engaged in... He wanted Lily treated him like a naughty little brother again.

He needed James back, the agony of loosing of his best friend hadn’t lessened at all.

All this ever-cycling thoughts haunted his lonely ramble.

“Mr Black,” he stared apathetic at the nurse approaching him, wondering if it was time for his potions again. He did not refuse any medication; he would do everything to keep the monster in his head at bay. Part him just wanted to fall asleep to never wake up...

“I have post for you.”

The nurse left him to stare at the letter for a good ten minutes. It was _her_ handwriting, unmistakably so. Testament to who had taught her from the very start, already neat and ornate, but painfully small.

Why had lovely little Bambi written him? Did he dare to even look at it?

How could he _not_ read it?!

With shaky fingers he ripped the envelope open and took a deep breath before he began.

_ _

_ <strike>Hello Sirius</strike> _

_ <strike>Good d</strike> _

_ <strike>Hi</strike> _

_ <strike>Padfoot</strike> _

_ <strike>Hey Siri</strike> _

_Sirius,_

_I don’t not know what to write. _

_I want to tell you so much, all that you missed. We never went this long without talking._

_Severus and I moved to New Zealand. Britain is a little crazy right now - and I will not even start about Dumbledore! _

_We live at Sylvan Academy, Sev is now a teacher. It’s amazing. You would love it here, lots of space to play. I’ve sort of lessons until the next term. Different stuff I won’t bore you with. But I like it. Sev is teaching me brewing. _

_I made new friends, Ari and Leon, they are great and fun to be around. _

_Sev showed me the memory of the Memoria charm. _

_I hate Sothis. More than You-know-who. _

_But you are not him. That much I understood. _

_I miss you. I miss Padfoot and my godfather, I miss my best friend. _

_You don’t want to see me. I don’t know why. Please write when you change your mind. Please write even if you don’t change your mind!_

_I am going to write you. Even if you never reply or read any of it._

_Love you, miss you,_

_James A. Potter_

_P.S. Played a prank one of my teachers yesterday, you would have loved it! Even Ilya (my teacher) found it funny!_

_Sev was not amused. Could have known that. _

_Remember those cursed books with the bunny called Cottencandy? Guess who has to write more reports about them…_

_If you reply I might tell you ALL the details. So answer me!_


	11. Memories and a yule log

_Late morning_

_20 December 1986 _

_Flat 11, Alisanus Gardens, Sylvan Academy_

_Steward Island, New Zealand_

James Potter had no idea what to do with her day. The winter break had started a few days ago and tomorrow morning she and Severus would travel to Malfoy Manor, to spent Yule with Narcissa and Draco. Not that she didn’t want to visit them, but it was the holiday without her parents and Sirius. She did not feel at all like celebrating.

The weather outside matched her mood, the summer-storm had been raging for a day already and judging by the sheer mass of rain falling, it would continue until she was back in England. While James didn’t mind, her godfather was not at all keen for her to catch a cold and had banned her from playing outside. Which lead to the current predicament: She was restless and bored.

Tom was busy working on the details of his room and she didn’t want to interrupt him just to get her butt kicked to the other side of the chessboard again. She couldn’t play with Faramond or Leon; the Van Kirks were visiting family in Antwerp and the McNamaras in Chicago doing just the same. The academy had felt quite empty for days already.

Severus was working on a potion he had been experimenting on for the past weeks, his first new creation in years. As cool as she thought that, she didn’t like being banned from the lab. But her godfather had been very clear on that, most of the ingredients he used were unstable, poisonous or both. As much as she loved to push his rules then and now, James knew that going to his lab without his approval was a disaster waiting to happened, one she would rather avoid.

Mooching about in her room, she wondered what to do with her time. Her desk was covered in books, notes and some sketches she had tried during the week, of herbs and flowers from the gardens. But neither drawing or learning sounded particularly tempting. She had done the training-routine, that Jurriaan had given her, three times already, her shoulders hurt and her hands go blisters again. Severus would not be happy seeing the new bandages…

Aware that the boredom was less than half of her problem, she started to browse through her ever-growing bookcase, hoping that something would catch her attention. The Dawnstar-novels were engaging, but she had just read them a month ago. She shuddered at Cottencandy V, dearly wishing Severus would forget that she had yet to write the report on it. Her mom’s album was here as well, it had been one of the things, that had been saved from Godric’s Hollow. Her comic collection could do with resorting, but cleaning seemed even less inviting than learning.

Faltering James looked at the thick album again before she shrugged to herself and pulled it out. Lily had loved to tell her, how her family had gifted her the Instamatic for her ninth birthday, the camera had been one of her prized possessions and now she laid unused on the shelf above James’ bed. She could not bring herself to make photos with it that her mother would never see.

The album was thick and well-kept and later, when Lily had gone to Hogwarts, she had put so many spells on it over the years, that even someone as powerful as Dumbledore would need ample time to destroy it.

A soft knock against the door frame made her look up at her godfather, “I am finished - Anything you want to do?”

“Can we look at mom’s photo album?” she asked before she had truly thought about it. It had been quite some times since she last went through it, but it seemed… fitting somehow.

Severus was a little surprised, but agreed readily. Shortly after they found themselves in the living room, James sitting on his lap, holding the big book, listening to the pergamin rustle softly when they turned over.

The first pages were filled with an unsorted hotchpotch of shots showing Cokeworth, the Evan’s family, flowers, animals and anything else that had caught Lily’s fancy. Severus narrated for her, telling her, how her mother and he had grown up, about Harold and Calla Evens, the grandparents she would never meet. Her mom had taken after her father, she noticed, they shared the red hair and green eyes. Eyes James had as well, albeit in a different colour now.

According to Sev they had been good, kind people. She would’ve loved to get to know them, but they had died shortly before she had been born. Her godfather glazed over the _how_, but she somehow knew that V… Vol… - _the dark Lord _had had a hand in it.

At least James thought she did, since the picture was unmoving. She appeared so unlike her mother that no one would have them assumed they were sisters, but the older girl looked nice in a warm, placid kind of way. Her mom had told her about Petunia, but again, she had never met her aunt. She had not even come for the funeral. Judging by the way Severus had nothing to say about her, he had nothing _good_ to say.

She turned the page again and was greeted by the shy smirk of the much younger self of her godfather. He had looked frailer and paler back then, unhealthily so, but his smile was the same.

“Why did you wear only black?”

“I liked it back then,” Severus half-lied, “Liked it a long time actually.”

“Is that why dad said you look like a big bat?”

‘Overgrown bat’, had been the exact words and they had not been for his goddaughter’s ears. Her father had not meant them exactly nice, but his daughter, who loved every critter on earth, but especially all that was flying, had taken them as a sign of affection and still thought them that. Severus had no reason to correct that notion, “I think so, Corbillat,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against her hair. Softer he added, “Your mom was my best friend from the moment I meet her.”

“I miss her…”

“So do I.”

Looking at more pictures, James noticed something for the first time: How _bad_ Sev’s clothes appeared to be. Clean, but threadbare and obviously the wrong size. Eerily it reminded her of Tom’s thorn clothing. But Severus had not been an orphan… Just then she realised he had never said a word about his parents or any siblings, or any other member of his family.

_How did I miss that?_ she asked herself. How many times had she looked at the pictures with her mother and never in all the narration had been a hint about it? As they went on, she realised something quite… disturbing. There were a lot of pictures from her mother’s best friend, but more than once she got a glimpse of bruises he had obviously tried to hide, in one even a black eye!

Anger bubbled up inside her, who had dared to hurt Sev?

o ~ O ~ o

10 July 1970

Garden of Mulberry Road 13

Cokeworth, England

_“No!”_

_Lily was close to tears, “But, Sev -”_

_“I said no!” Severus pushed her hands away, truly angry now at her meddling. She was his best friend, yes, but she really needed to accept boundaries set._

_She looked at him and the small trace of red on his worn-out collar he had missed. It was not the first time Tobias’ ravings had drawn blood, but every time she promised herself it was be the last! That she would save him from his father._

_“You don’t understand this,” his voice was softer than before, as if she was the one hurting!_

_Stomping her foot, aware how immature it looked but not able to help herself, “He is hitting you and your mom! What else is there to understand?”_

_“Mom is not going to leave him, Lils.” He felt like he had explained this a hundred times already, “Involving the bobbies is only spelling trouble for her. And,” he added before she could even start, “I am not leaving her alone with him.”_

_“Tell your grandparents then!”_

_He shook his head, this she had proposed often as well, “They banished mom, they don’t even acknowledge my existence. I am only a halfblood.”_

_“This is so stupid! Wizards are stupid! And -”_

_He listened to her rant, glad that she cared but otherwise only reacting with that mild, defeated smile she hated so much. The smile that made him look ages old and said, “This is how the world works, wherever you like it or not.”_

o ~ O ~ o

James filed her questions under _‘needs careful investigation’_, suspecting, based on her friendship with Tom, that Sev would not want to discuss any of her thoughts.

They flipped through the next pages, getting glances on both Lily and Severus in their Hogwarts uniforms. Her mother and her friends from house Gryffindor. A very young Alice and Aunt Marlene, who James had only blurry memories of. But she vividly remembered how her mom had cried the whole night upon hearing the Death Eaters had murdered the McKinnon family.

There were pictures of Severus and a rather disgruntled looking Uncle Lucius, he was clearly not happy with the situation. James had not truly known Narcissa’s husband, but the fact she had loved him and that he was Sev’s friend would’ve been enough for her to consider him family every day.

But he had saved them, too.

“Do you miss him?” She regretted the question when she felt his shoulder’s sack, “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise. And yes, I miss him.”

_Every day_, he added silently. Lucius had been three years ahead of him at Hogwarts, but despite his ‘aristocratic’ (read: snobbish) attitude, they had gotten along. It hadn’t hurt that Narcissa had a soft spot for all younger Slytherins, particularly him.

After his fall-out with Lily during the end of their fifth year, Lucius had made him practically move into Malfoy Manor, just so he could make sure, Severus would eat three times a day. Lucius had been family to him more than anyone he was related to by blood. And that was the sin he had died for…

o ~ O ~ o

Night

17 February 1984

Headquarters of Lord Voldemort

Presumably somewhere in the United Kingdom

_Lily tried her hardest not to cry, but she was so scared! Not for her own life, but her little baby… _

_The one time they took Roslyn beyond the safety of their home or the Order’s headquarter, they were ambushed by Death Eaters. If nothing else it proved there was a traitor among them. But what good did that knowledge now?_

_When a Death Eater had disarmed and grabbed her to apparate away, she had been sure she would die. But they had only shoved her into this dirty cell, stating Voldemort wanted to deal with her himself._

_Holding her little girl closer, Lily prayed for a miracle. That her daughter would survive. For the thousandths time she cursed the prophecy, the one thing she hated above Voldemort. _

_Four years prior she had hoped for a birth in august, had even been willing to use magic to postpone the delivery, but no. Back then it had been the Death Eaters, and Voldemort himself, shattering that little hope. And so much more._

_Roslyn was tightly pressed against her chest, scared, but trusting her mom to keep her save. She peeked over her mother’s shoulder, taking the dark room in. And the figure that suddenly appeared on the other side of the bars. She recognised him and her fear was gone, “Sev!”_

_Lily looked up, blinking tears away. Her best friend, the Order’s spy was here to save them again, “How -”_

_The jangle of enchanted keys interrupted her. He rushed in, helping her on her feet. She noticed the blood on his robes._

_“Later - We need to leave before _he_ arrives. Can you walk?”_

_“Yes.”_

_He nodded and pressed a quick kiss against his goddaughter’s forehead, endlessly relieved both of them were alive._

_Outside the cell, Lucius and Narcissa waited for them, and to Lily’s surprise she held her son, too. Lady Malfoy slipped Lily her wand, worry written all over her face, “I am glad you two are unharmed.”_

_Ever since Severus had been saving her shortly before she had given birth to Roslyn, Lucius had been in the know. He had treated his own abilities as a spy for keeping Narcissa and Draco save._

_“We need to go now,” the older man urged, knowing their Lord would not forgive anyone in this building when his prophesied _“equal”_ escaped. It was time to leave for good._

_They knew the layout and after the mayhem Severus had created in the laboratory, their way was free aside from free unlucky Death Eaters. They never knew what killed them._

_The cellar had a staircase to the large kitchens and from there they left through the garden. They dared not to run; notice-me-not-charms would do no could when they acted too unusual to ignore._

_They were not 150 ft from the properties border, when the wards rippled with powerful magic._

_“Damned!” Severus cursed, getting Lily and Roslyn behind him. Voldemort had come._

_“Traitors in our midst,” the Dark Lord said coldly, yew wand already in his pale hands, “I never expected you to stray from me, Lucius. And Severus… I am so very disappointed.” _

_Narcissa had pressed Draco’s face against her shoulder, shielding him away, but Roslyn saw the… demon staring at them. Starring at _her_._

_“Roslyn Potter,” he said her name almost softly, with a hint of regret, “Finally we meet. What a shame to kill someone with such potential… But alas, it has to be done.”_

_The gaze of those blood red eyes would never truly leave her. But neither would, how her mother held her. How she and Severus raised their wands without hesitation to protect her._

_“You will not lay a hand on her,” the potion master hissed, already raising strong protections as he spoke, “Not while I still breath!”_

_The Dark Lord chuckled and with a flick of his wand, Inferi slowly came from the near woods, “As you wish, my treacherous friend.”_

_The adults formed a square and hurdled the two children in the middle, they could not fight holding Roslyn and Draco. Lucius and Narcissa instantly conjured fire spells against the creatures, Lily raised more shields and Severus casted a forceful ward-breaker. They needed back-up, once the wards were down, Dumbledore would know where to bring the Order._

_Voldemort lost no more time taunting, he casted curses so fast his wand was only a blur of motion. Even in a fight one against four, the Dark Lord showed no sign of strain. When Death Eaters arrived on scene, things turned desperate. _

_When the wards finally fell, Severus was already bleeding from numerous cuts, the blood-loss made him slightly dizzy. Narcissa fell, screaming, when she stepped into the Cruciatus Voldemort had aimed at Draco._

_Then there were load pops of apparition. The Order of the Phoenix and Fawkes started to burn the Inferi to coal._

_As always, Voldemort did not want to fight his old teacher had one, but his need to see his possible adversary die unweighted that, “Kill all of them!”_

_Sirius had already grabbed the children to get them away, Lily apparating as well. Severus was about to follow, but -_

_“Hi-ya, little baby sister! **Avada Kedavra!**”_

_He spun around quickly, but Lucius crumbled to the ground and Narcissa stared in heart-broken disbelief. Severus did the only thing he could, grabbing them both an apparating them away. Ignoring the burning pain along his left arm. _

o ~ O ~ o

Severus blinked, knowing he had been lost in his own thoughts the way his goddaughter looked at him expectantly.

“Lucius would’ve loved you,” he mused out load. In another world he would have spoiled her worse than Sirius ever could, giving her everything she wanted, simply because she made puppy dog eyes at him. He chuckled at the thought, comforting himself with the knowledge that at least Draco and James grew up together.

Despite her curiosity, his goddaughter didn’t question him on his comment.

The photos chanced when Lily came into her third year in Hogwarts, now they were wizarding, moving pictures.

What else changed was that photos of the Evans and especially Petunia, becoming more and more sparse, and the smiling, happy blond had transformed into a sour looking teenager. Another thing that deemed some digging around, James mused.

In some pictures was Lily with a shy, shuffling Remus Lupin - one he beamed in, the two wearing their new prefect bandages. Sirius had obviously loved photo-bombing and Lily had apparently thought that some had been too hilarious not to keep.

There were a lot of pictures of her dad, titled with every imaginable variation of ‘biggest idiot ever’. Very convincing, especially with the little hearts her mom had drown around one, only to paint over them. But James could still see the imprint from the pen.

It was strange to see that for her mom’s last two year of schooling, Severus was not in sign, but not only her dad, but all his friends were everywhere, especially Sirius. A moment long James toyed with the idea of ripping out the pictures with Pettigrew, but this was her mom’s album, she had no right to chance anything. Maybe she could make copies and burn them…

“What was your argument about anyway? Mom would never say?” James knew they had a bad fight during school, but that was it.

“I was being stupid,” Severus replied honestly. He still felt Lily’s reaction had been over the top - she had admitted it herself when they made up years later. But they had been teenagers, both headstrong and stubborn.

“Corbillat, if one of your friends ever does something stupid, give them the chance to apologise.”

“Mom didn’t?”

“She didn’t listen, because I really hurt her. And when that had passed, I had already given up and she was too proud to search me out.”

“Oh… I will listen.” James agreed readily, not knowing how thankful she would be, years later down the road, for this promise made.

The Hogwarts graduation pictures took several pages - her mother as valedictorian, glowing with pride. Her father as best in Transfiguration, Sev the best in Potions.

There were pictures of the Potter family, her dad and his parents, along with some that Lily had apparently acquired from others. Baby-photos of her then fiancée, some of Fleamont’s and Euphemia’s wedding… Her great-grandparents, Henry and Iolanthe Potter mustering the parents of the bride, Aries and Rana Black, rather sceptically, which in turn amused their descendant greatly.

The pictures of a pregnant Lily became prominent as she went on, Sirius had needed to follow her day and night with a camera trained at her to get that many photos, James was sure of it.

o ~ O ~ o

Afternoon

20 June 1980

Potter Manor, ancestral home of the Potter-Family

Cardiff, Wales

_“If you would just tell us if I get a goddaughter or godson it would make this discussion so much easier!” Sirius whined. _

_Lily just smiled, very much intended to keep her sweet secret for the weeks to come. Only her midwife was in the know, she had not even told James yet. _

_A part of her, not a small part, knew it was not only due to tease her family, but because she was scared._

_Just after her marriage she had miscarried when she had been three months along. Lily had never told her husband, but Euphemia, who had been a still reserved towards her before then, had consoled her. Her mother-in-law had rocked her back and forth, cried with her and didn’t say those words, she would’ve hated her for: “You’ll have more children”. And Lady Potter had never broken the trust of her daughter-in-law and Lily loved her for it._

_But the fear of losing these children as well followed her like a shadow since the day she knew of her new pregnancy. Witches rarely carried twins, her healer made it clear before that the possibility of losing one or even both of her babies were high…_

_She was almost seven months along now and both her girl and boy were healthy. Lily wanted to start looking for names, hoping it would bring indeed good luck as her father-in-law had let her know._

_Sirius was still sulking upon being ignored. They were as far as ‘Harry James’ for a boy, it could not be that hard to find a girl name._

_“Fleamont?” James put forward out of a sense of duty, deeply hoping no one would agree._

_“You hate your second name,” Lily reminded him annoyed._

_“Praise Merlin, I do! - Amaryllis is a beautiful name. Or Iris.”_

_“Amaryllis and Iris?” Sirius asked with a teasing smile, “James, if you have a secret desire for a flower garden you just need to say so…”_

_“Fair point - Junalie?”_

_“What about -” Sirius didn’t get further, both future parents all but shouting at him, “**Prongslet is not a name!**”_

_“Just a thought…” Sirius murmured with an uncharacteristically small voice, while Remus and Severus laughed._

_“Serpentina,” Lily proposed, thinking about her favourite story by E.T.A. Hoffmann._

_“Over my dead body - Henrietta?”_

_“No. Just no.”_

_“Iolanthe?”_

_“Why don't you leave it at one name?” Severus asked after the back and forth between the new parents had went on for a good five minutes, “Does she really need two?”_

_“I have an idea,” Sirius said, who found the whole affair highly amusing, if he was not screamed at that was, “Why don’t you pick a name each?”_

_“I don’t know…” Lily looked suspiciously at James, then nodded, “You first, husband mine.”_

_He thought a long moment before he proposed, “Roslyn - Rose for short. It honours your family tradition and it’s a lovely name. “_

_“I like it - Your pick, Severus,” Lily looked at her best friend, who she had already decided he would be the godfather of her daughter, with a devilish grin, while her husband and Sirius were not amused._

_“Why does he get to have a say I am not?”_

_“Because he won’t propose something ridiculous like ‘Prongslet’”_

_“Acacia,” Severus said with a smile. It seemed fitting, the name of a healing plant. And Acacia McNamara had been one of his and Lily’s favourite authors when they had been in their teens._

_Lily smiled brilliantly at him, „I love it.”_

_“Young Lord Harry James or Young Lady Roslyn Acacia,” Sirius spoke up with his usual dramatics, “What a mouthful for something the size of a bread!”_

o ~ O ~ o

James looked at the many pictures of her new born-self and wondered if she had just improved dramatically or if all babies were that red-faced and… well, smooshed? Creased? She made a mental note to check the baby-photos of Draco and Neville.

“You look sceptical,” Severus prompted, seeing her frown.

“Yeah. Did you cry because I was your goddaughter or because you thought I would keep looking like _that_?”

Her godfather stared at her for a whole two seconds before he started laughing. Not snicker, no chuckle, a full body-shaking laughter that made James join in.

“No, Corbillat. You were the most beautiful baby ever.”

“You mean the others look even worse?!” This comment she made only to make him laugh again, quite successfully.

He was so sober and without the banter he had engaged in with Sirius and her mom cheering him up, he was even more serious. Maybe he would become friends with Jurriaan? They went along well enough after all.

o ~ O ~ o

Close to midnight

31 July 1980

Potter Manor, ancestral home of the Potter-Family

Cardiff, Wales

_Lily Potter’s hoarse screams resounded through the mostly empty halls of the old mansion. They had for the past four hours._

_James winced at the sound. He sat, pale and jittery, on the coach, Sirius arms around him the only thing that kept him sane. The acting Lord Black didn’t look to well himself, while the blood was cleaned of his robes, the rips from the slicing curse were still there. _

_Severus leaned against the brick-build fireplace, staring into the flames, cursing himself that he had not been there sooner. They had known for months that Voldemort would go after every pregnant woman on their side, the prophecy had managed to cut through the last tatters of sanity the Dark Lord had have left. The one-time Lily left the wards… Severus never put much believe in the concept of coincidence, but Dumbledore didn’t want to think, that there was a traitor among his precious Order! _

_In the master bedroom, Lily let out another bloodcurdling scream. She had never felt such pain, she would swear that she was thorn in two. And then the agony… stopped._

_She waited for the wailing of her babies, but the silence stayed and it terrified her. Amy, her midwife, laid a little bundle into her weak arms, “Congratulations, Lily. You have a healthy daughter.”_

_The little girl made a content gurgle, her eyes were open, almost curious and already as green as her own. She made more small, happy noises. Lily knew then and there that she would die for this, for her child. _

_The old grandfather clock struck midnight._

_“Born as the seventh month dies,_” _Lily whispered to herself, tears in her eyes. _

_“Lily,” Amy began softly, she had not heard the words, “I am so, so sorry…”_

_The new mother held her daughter more tightly, “What is it? What’s wrong?”_

_“Your second child… Lily your son died hours ago. I am so sorry.”_

_“No! He was fine just yesterday! My little Harry!”_

_“I am sorry,” Amy repeated, holding a second bundle. She loved her profession, but days like this made her consider to quit, “I will tell Lord Potter -”_

_“No!”_

_The midwife stared it her, confused, “But Lily, he is the father -”_

_Shaking her head violently, Lily ordered her to get her mother-in-law instead. Euphemia would understand._

_Softly she rocked her daughter, crying over her baby boy, “Your name will be Roslyn James Acacia Potter, my little Princess.”_

_Euphemia knew it meant nothing good when the midwife fetched her, instead of her son. _

_Lily was desperate to protect her husband, worried how James would react knowing his precious son had been stillborn because of the Death Eaters. This had a high chance of turning him bloodthirsty and even more reckless, she could see it already. And so, did Euphemia._

_That was why she left with her poor little grandson to give him a final resting place in the crypt of Potter Manor. But not before giving both Lily and Roslyn a kiss and obliviating the protesting midwife._

o ~ O ~ o

After the baby-photos, they stumbled upon the weird kind of family picture that was common in her life: The Order of the Phoenix.

James loved this picture especially, gaze lingering on the familiar faces. Gideon and Fabien, who had always enjoyed to brag with their nephews and niece. The Longbottoms, Neville holding his little sister Esther almost bursting with pride. His grandmother trying to look strict but glowed with approval for both her grandchildren.

Dumbledore smiling genuinely happy and how she wished he was still something of a grandfather for her. But how he acted currently made impossible to be around him.

Alastor, same as always, gloomy and muttering about “critical evidence” being made.

And there was her younger self, surrounded by her parents, Sirius, Remus and Severus, her godfather with a bandage around his shoulder and upper arm.

o ~ O ~ o

Afternoon

19 February 1984

Townhouse of the Longbottom family, Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix

Manchester, England

_“Lily, there is no need -”_

_She simply ignored him, dragging him in front of the camera, taking advantage of his weakened state._

_“I am wounded!” he complained weakly, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all._

_“Then you should have stayed in bed like a good patient,” She shoot back without missing a beat._

_“I don’t need to lie around all day - I lost an arm, not a leg!” That had been a nasty surprise, the Dark Mark had started to burn its way all the way to his bones once he had left Voldemort’s lair. It had been Sirius quick and nerve, that had saved his live by doing what was necessary: Slicing the lower arm off. A price for his life, Severus was more than happy to pay._

_“Shall I help you searching?” Sirius asked, already back to form, eyes gleaming with mischief, “I am really good at it!”_

_“No thank you, I need it back without bite marks,” Severus replied dryly, smiling at his goddaughter as the girl beamed at him._

_Sirius burst out laughing, “Glad to see the bastard didn’t damped your spirit.”_

_“Language!” Lily and Severus hissed as one._

_Four years old Roslyn beamed at her mom, eyes wide and curious, “What’s a bastard?”_

_They stared at her for a good moment until Lily looked at Severus, silently demanding him to do _something_._

_Viciously he shook his head, “I am not touching this question with a ten-foot pool!”_

_“You are her godfather!”_

_“So is the imbecile behind you!” He knew his tactical error the moment he closed his mouth._

_His goddaughter giggled and Lily was very cross with him for what Roslyn’s favourite word for the month to come was…_

o ~ O ~ o

“Sev?”

“Yes, Corbillat?”

They were almost though with the album, looking at some photos Sirius had taken of Draco and Roslyn playing a prank on Dumbledore.

“I don’t want to celebrate Yule,” she finally admitted lowly.

Severus signed, “I am not feeling up to it either.” His own memories of Yule and Christmas were mixed at best, happy days with his mother or spend at Hogwarts in contrast to the ravings of his drunken father. Narcissa’s invitation had been a godsend to him, since he just didn’t know what to do with the situation at hand. Hearing his goddaughter feeling pretty much the same, he wondered if he should simply call it all off.

“But… you know, Cissy and Draco are family,” he reminded her softly, “They will understand if you - _if we_ are not only happy.”

“You think so?”

“I know so, and if it becomes truly too much we can always go home again, okay?”

“Right… Tell me about the time I turned your hair violet?”

He groaned, “You know that story. You were _there_!”

“Pleeeeease?”

Severus looked at her, very aware that he was being manipulated and still he knew he would indulge her. He could already order the Slytherin-robes it seemed.

“Very well, for the five-hundred-twenty-seventh time. You were six months old…”

o ~ O ~ o

_Early evening_

_21th December_

_Malfoy Manor_

_Surrounding area of Exeter, Wales _

Severus stepped out of the spacious fireplace, feeling floosick from the long travel. Times like this he envied his goddaughter; she truly enjoyed the floo-network.

“There you are!” Narcissa greeted them both with a hug and gushing, how nice James looked in her new robes. Draco happily jumped into his godfather’s arms, babbling about his new toy cauldron and the Quidditch-field being remodelled and what he wanted to do the following days. Severus indulged the blond boy, truly content with spending quality time with his godson. His little Corbillat was his primary concern and responsibility now, but he knew Draco needed him as well.

The first thing the six-year-old wanted to do through, was showing off the new Abraxans. Narcissa was all too happy to show both children how to approach the beautiful creatures. They were still young, a little smaller than a mundane hoarse and - according to the Lady of House Malfoy - the perfect size for children to learn to ride them. But first she let them pad and feed them carrots and apples for a while to become a little more familiar with them. She and Narcissa watched them from the fence, “James seems happy,” the witch more stated than asked with the children busy and out of hearing rage, “How are her lessons?”

“She works hard on her theory-classes. She takes to Elemental Magic like a fish to water… Every minute she is not reading or learning she spends outside.”

“And her friends?”

He frowned at that, remembering what James had said just a week ago, “She likes both Faramond and Leon, but… she finds them immature.”

Narcissa didn’t looked surprised in the slightest, “I can see that. It’s what you would’ve said.”

Severus shook his head, smiling, knowing she spoke the truth, “How are things in the Wizengamot?”

“Could be better, could be worse. Dumbledore tried to claim the right to speak on behalf of house Potter. He was not happy when I reprimanded him.” Narcissa smiled despite her own words, watching James curry the mane of the youngest Abraxan, while Draco used his brush on James’ hair.

“He has yet to introduce the legislation James told us about, even after Alice ruined the surprise-factor. Either he still works on it or he knows it will not pass.”

“How are the chances at the moment?” he asked, trusting her knowledge in this more than his own.

“In our favour. None of the traditionalist’s will touch that law and most of the neutral block view it as an important measure to keep their children safe if worse comes to worse. Since parent’s still overpower godparents with the sole exceptions being cases of abuse or neglect, they see no reason to change it. The…_ light families,_” she spoke the term with disdain and annoyance, “are all herding behind Dumbledore, but their votes alone a far from enough.”

“Good,” Severus murmured, allowing himself to feel a little relieved.

“There is something else…” Narcissa was unsure how to break the news to him, “Your… _Lord Prince_ approached me after the last meeting.”

Unsure what to do with this information he asked further, “What did he want?”

“He… enquired about you and your mother. How you were fairing, where you live…”

Groaning he raked his fingers through his hair. One problem not solved, another popping up.

Traian Prince had casted his only daughter out of the family when she had married a muggle. Severus had seen his grandfather and uncles only in passing and had never spoken to them. What could’ve happened, for the old man to change his mind? - Provided that he _had_ changed it in the first place. Maybe it was just the commonplace regret that usually surfaced when death crept nearer. But Lord Prince was not that old yet…

“I can smell your brain smoking, Severus,” Narcissa interrupted his train of thoughts, “He wishes to talk with you. At a time and place of your convenience.”

“Never it is. - Didn’t you want to teach the kids riding?”

She merely rolled her eyes at his smokescreen, “Yes, very subtle. Have you thought about my other idea?”

He looked over at James, “You mean adopting her…” he spoke lowly, still watching his goddaughter.

It was the obvious solution to the Dumbledore/Longbottom-problem.

“I am a nobody, politically speaking. The ministry won’t allow it.”

James was simply too high-profile, everyone and sundry wanted a piece of her and a say in her life. Dumbledore, Minister Bagnold, even the Unspeakables had asked to do some “scans” on her. Every day he congratulated himself for choosing Sylvan Academy and New Zealand over Great Britain.

Narcissa made a hum that sounded like she agreed and was not happy with the truth in his words, “Stupid laws full of loopholes.”

“You love the loopholes,” he deadpanned, making her chuckle.

“Yes. Yes, I do… Let’s show our little ones how to get into the settle before they lose their patience, shall we?”

They stayed outside until after the sun had set and both children were happily tiered out and fell almost asleep at dinner.

After bringing them to bed - as always, they insisted to share a room - Severus and Narcissa spent a few hours talking about things of no consequence, simply enjoying how they were able to spend time together again and the taste of the well-aged wine they shared.

The next morning Narcissa and James set up the yule-altar, while Severus and Draco prepared the incense materials for cleansing the house. The boy liked the smell of it and his goddaughter instantly recalled it as burning, dried sage, since her godfather used it frequently to clean his lab after brewing. The houseelfs were busy as well, cleaning every corner of the giant house.

Draco knew what traditions to follow on the yule, James not so much.

Her mother had not been a big fan of this kind of rituals and James Sr. had not thought it worth a fight. Narcissa was lenient about this one Lily’s few shortcomings, not at all unhappy that she had the chance to educate a girl that might as well be her own. And it was far from too late to teach her The old Ways and Yule was a festivity to greet the future to come, not to dwell on the past.

After the year – years they had and considering what was still looming on the horizon, it was a pious hope that the past stayed were it belonged. But one Narcissa would hold unto regardless.

James concluded, once the day was almost over, that she had enjoyed it far more than she had expected, mainly because it was so different from the times, she had celebrated Christmas with her parents. Particularly preparing the yule-log had been fun. First wrapping it with dried holly, mistletoe and ivy cuttings and finally woollen ribbon. Then decorating it with feathers and cinnamon sticks, dried berries and little pine cones. Before burning, each of the four of them had written a wish on a small piece of parchment to put under the ribbons.

Sitting on Severus lap, watching the big oak-log burning in the fireplace, the scent of scorching wood and cinnamon filled the air, she mused about how much had changed in a few weeks.

Draco was already asleep in Narcissa’s arms and the two adults silently sat next to each other, enjoying the silence and peace.

“I still feel like I am intruding,” Tom murmured lowly, sitting close enough that she could easily touch him if she felt like it.

_I invited you, Tom. Stop being difficult._

He smiled to himself, trying to hide it from her, “And I thank you for it.”

_You are very welcome._

“What was your wish? For the yule log?” Tom asked softly. James had written his wish down for him, but he had not wanted to pry what she wished for.

_Peace_, she answered simply,_ from the war. And from Dumbledore._

“I truly hope that it will be fulfilled….”

_And yours? ‘Freedom’?_

He didn’t hesitate to answer, “From those pieces of memories that don’t feel like my own. From whatever link I have to… the Dark Lord. And maybe the freedom of a body that is mine.”

_You are quite welcome to share until you manage that last bit, _she replied cheekily.

“You are being far to gracious, dearest.” he teased with a low laugh.


	12. Gears turning into motion

_Morning_

_23 December_

_Malfoy Manor_

_Surrounding area of Exeter, Wales _

James woke up to the pleasant feeling of silken bed sheets and the familiar annoyance of Draco hogging the giant bed. Hoping it would encourage him to move, she gave his knee a gentle shove. _She_ got was a kick sending her out of the bed squealing. She lay on the thick carpet, contemplating her life-choices (including letting her best friend sleep in her bed against better judgement) with all the seriousness a six-year-old could muster. Then she saw the little mountains of presents, remembered what day it was and got up, “Draco, wake up!”

“L’m seep,” was his very articulate answer. He was even more averse to getting up in the morning than Severus. Not, that it was by any means early…

Not the slightest but discouraged she jumped back onto the bed, landing next to him, “Little Draaaagon,” she sing song, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, “We got preeesents…”

He blinked a few moments, “… It’s boxing day.”

“You truly are a Ravenclaw in the making,” James teased. Draco shoved her of the bed again.

“Oi! You can’t treat me this way, I have guest rights!”

“You are family, that doesn’t count!” He grinned down at her from the bed.

She merely giggled at his comment, too content with the _normalcy_ of the morning to complain or even muster annoyance, “Sure thing, cousin - Want to destroy some wrapping paper?”

“Merlin, yes!”

When the adults came half an hour later to see what their kids were up to, the floor was littered with colourful scraps.

“I trust you enjoy your present?” Severus asked, taking a sip from his mug.

“Sev!” Somehow her godfather managed to catch her as she jumped up to hug him without spilling any coffee, “I got so much cool stuff! Thank you!”

“You are very welcome, Corbillat.”

Draco was already showing of his presents to his mother, taking one piece after another from his heap. Severus thought amused, it looked not unlike the pile a dragon would build with his hoarded treasures.

James had put her gifts on her bed, clearly exited about all of them. And her godfather agreed that she had every right to be. He had scanned all the presents for foul tinkering, poisons and the like beforehand (just in case someone had somehow managed to interject the post), but for her sake he pretended surprise.

He himself had gotten her new brushes, a thick bundle of line board and a set of magical paints, which would stick to every thinkable and unthinkable surface. He _had_ tried to argue with her about painting on the walls in her bedroom, but on second thought: It was a boring, white tapestry and it was nothing magic wouldn’t fix and she had fun. The last point had been decisive.

His other present was small microscope, along with a set of slides containing a variety of samples, from salt, over insect wings to plant-parts. He had to explain to her, what the ‘strange thing’ was and how it worked, but then her eyes shone even brighter than before. 

Euphemia had gifted her a hand-crafted jewellery box, that played a hauntingly beautiful song called “_Tacita’s lament_” when the lit was open. It was also _stuffed_ with hidden compartments and without directions how to handle it. James would have fun to riddle them all out.

Nymphadora Tonks had sent her a bunch of different sweets (all made by Honeydukes at Hogsmead). Her many-times-removed cousin would’ve liked to get to know her aunt Narcissa, but her mother Andromeda was against any contact. So much, she didn’t even approve that her daughter and James wrote each other then and now.

She was delighted to see a gift from Alastor Moody, along with a long letter about being careful and ‘Constant Vigilance!’ (As if those had not been among the first words in her vocabulary, by sheer force of repetition). The self-adjusting staff-holster was made of dragon-hide and quite excessively enchanted against summoning-spells and other ways of unsolicited removal. And, as James pointed out its most important feature, it looked _really_ cool. 

The Longbottoms had sent books, themed around proper magic, as they called it, and the virtues of the light. By the way his goddaughter grimaced at the pile, Severus didn’t need to worry about her suddenly voicing wishes of moving to them.

Narcissa had gotten out of her way to get her outfitted for the term to come: Her first own book bag, the crest and motto of Sylvan and her name stitched on in silver threat on black dragon-hide. There was also a matching backpack, an engraved pencil case for half a dozen raven-feather quills and a small knife to sharpen them and a set of inks. James was especially taken with the emerald ink and the one that shimmered in all colours of the rainbow once it dried.

And a set of unbelievable fluffy, green and black pyjamas, the pants had little cauldrons and the top read, ‘Potion mistress in the making’. Just as Narcissa had intended, Severus could not help but laugh seeing that, he had gotten a very similar set of sleepwear from her and his proclaimed ‘Potion master’.

The book ‘_77 spells for young magicals and 777 ways to use them_’, had been a surprise, since it had Remus Lupin as sender. It had come only with a short note,

**Dear James,**

**I wish you a Blessed Yule. **

**I hope this helps your studies. **

**Love**

**Remus **

Sufficed to say it confused the heck out of James and Severus.

Not a word from him for weeks but now a present? And such a thoughtful one, too, she loved it after she had flicked through it. Her godfather made a note to himself to write Remus, to find out what this was about. He did _not_ want his goddaughter to develop abandonment issues because the adults in her life could not make up their minds.

The last gift was from Sirius, but he had asked Severus not to tell her.

It didn’t sit well with the potion master. But there was so little he was able to do for the other man, for someone he had actually taken as a friend, he had reluctantly agreed in the end.

It was a training-snitch, it looked exactly like the real deal, but one could adjust how far away it flew and how fast it was.

And James was able to use it without flying, which was all Severus asked for at the moment. He still hoped, she would find another hobby than Quidditch. At least he tried to tell himself that, while she played. Her training with Jurriaan had honed her natural good reflexes, she had to set the snitch on ‘high’ for it to be a challenge.

After Draco had also been given ample time to show his new toys to his godfather as well, Narcissa hushed them all to a late breakfast. Boxing Day was one of the few days that she didn’t demand proper manners and clothing during meals, and the children made the most of it. Her son somehow managed to talk about all the things he wanted to do, while gobbling down a load of delightfully fluffy pancakes dripping with blueberry jam. His friend munched on her scrambled eggs, roasted mushrooms and beacon, throwing in her own two knuts then and now.

After finishing, James rushed to her room to get dressed, as she would get another riding-lesson from Narcissa. Neither Draco nor Severus were really interested in going out, or even to change out of their sleepwear, they hurdled themselves up in the cosy reading den.

While she had to agree there existed worse ways to spend the day than cuddling into blankets and listening to Sev reading stories to them, she wanted to hang around her aunt.

“Tom?”

“Morning, dearest. How were your presents?”

“Amazing. In fact, I have a present for you!” She was a little giddy with excitement, hoping he would like, what she had thought of.

“… Excuse me?”

“You cannot read without me being there, looking at the book” she explained, “But Tasia has taught me how to make use of my mind palace. I can’t really run around it, yet, but I am able to learn thinks and ‘store’ them.”

Tom nodded, understanding, but confused anyway, “And?”

She just grinned at him, “You gift is on the desk - I’ll go spent some time with Aunt Cissy.”

“Have fun - And do as both a favour and don’t fall of the Abraxans!”

Curious and intrigued he faded away again, wondering what his friend had done. Exerting his room, he stepped into the large hall, the centre of James’ mind palace for now. It remained a little blurry around the edges, filled with not-quite-there details that were not intentional. Speckles of colour, sparks of important memories…

On one side was a big bookshelf, still empty, in front of it a secretaire, which was usually just as unused as the shelf. Today it had a small pile, on top a golden bow, only half-existing, but glittered nicely under the light and a note in James hand:

**Blessed Yule, Tom **

**I hope you like the selection **

**Love**

**J.**

Frowning he looked at what she had laid out for him: Books. And not any books either, _A Journey to the Interior of the Earth_ and _Treasure Island, _stories he had told James were among his favourites. Flickering through them, he was amazed how clear and even the lettering was. She must’ve spent hours upon hours on this, it was not quite like memorising the text, but a process that took no less time and concentration. Usually an Occlumence would use the technique for non-fiction, to be able to recall all its contents. She had used it to make him a gift…

Tom smiled, not knowing how yet how to give her a fitting present in return and even happier with the certainty that James didn’t expect anything back.

Truly content for the first time in a while, he went to his room and made himself comfortable, intent on letting Robert Lewis Stevenson take him on a journey to a legendary island.

o ~ O ~ o

Opal was a very good-natured Abraxan, easily following Narcissa’s commands during lungeing, while James sat in the settle, doing her best to get her posture right.

“Just like that,” her aunt praised her, “A little faster?”

“Sure!”

The girl had no idea how Narcissa had given Opal the command, but the animal fell into an easy trot, which both fun and shook her about.

“Move with the hoarse, dear!”

It was different from riding her toy broom, that fly steady and responded to her and not to Cissy, who hold the line. It was no less enjoyable.

“I missed you,” James told Narcissa an hour later, when the two of them guided Opal to her box.

“Oh, sweet, I missed you too!” she crouched down to gave the girl a long hug, “Having you here is wonderful.”

“But we will go again… - Can you and Draco not move to New Zealand with us?”

A second Narcissa pondered on the question, almost allowing herself to think it possible until reason chimed in.

“You know I love you as a daughter, don’t you, James? I am very glad, you are happily living at Sylvan. But I have responsibilities here.”

“Like keeping Dumbledore at bay?”

Narcissa smiled sadly, “Yes, among other things.”

“Do you think… he could take me away?” James had not voiced this fear until now, not to her godfather or someone else aside from Tom.

“No!” She embraced her, her words fierce as a vow, “I promise you, that won’t happen. You’ll stay with him, and Dumbledore can do a handstand for all I care, because I will teach him to take his crooked nose out of our family business!”

James giggled at her choice of phrasing, hugging her back just as tightly, “Love you, Aunt Cissy.”

“I love you, too, little one.”

o ~ O ~ o

_2 February 1987_

_Flat 11, Alisanus Gardens, Sylvan Academy_

_Steward Island, New Zealand_

The start of the first term had somehow managed to take both Severus Snape and James Potter by surprise.

Maybe it was because they had gotten so used to their semi-secluded lifestyle during January. Despite preparing lessons and attending tutoring respectively, there was ample time to pursue various other interests.

The private lab was well in use and James knew more about potions than the average second-year at Hogwarts. Books (and comics) occupied the surfaces of the flat, inviting ribbing by friends - Severus actually started to consider Jurriaan, Charlotte and Sierra as such - how the place needed a ‘sorting hand’. Both godfather and goddaughter unanimously decided not to understand what they were talking about and continue to enjoy the arranged chaos of their home.

The time to themselves had done them good. The Potioneer was becoming less jumpy and didn’t expect an attack behind every unexpected movement or sound. James nightmares had started to settle slowly, both intensity and frequency finally lessening after three months.

But now, as Lord Thannor had put it simply during one of his sessions with Severus: Life was about to go on.

And the prospect of a new start was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

In the morning before her first ‘real’ day, James had spent quite more time on getting ready and dressing herself. She was acutely aware, that, while not the youngest student ever at the Academy, most of the others were between the ages fifteen to thirty.

Tom did not possess an optimistic or encouraging of natures, but seeing her jittery with nerves did wonders for his motivation-skills.

“Your first lesson is Latin. Ilya likes you, you’ll enjoy sharing a class with him as well,” he reminded her, pondering if he should tell her, that she was buttoning up her tunic not straight. Again.

“Sure. Me and a bunch of people, who all attended Hogwarts or another school already. What could go wrong… Why is it looking lopsided?”

He signed, stepping to correct her mistake. After month of trying, he had finally gotten the trick of using magic again. At this point, it was very little, but turning the page of a book or opening and closing bottoms was in the realm of possibility.

“In _Theory of Magic I_, you’ll have Ciel.”

“Yeah, but she might not want to spend all her time in class with a child ten years younger than her…”

“And I will be right by your side,” he interrupted, before her words could turn any gloomier, “The whole time.”

James still looked slightly sick, but she smiled again, “Thanks, Tom.”

“Always, dearest.”

o ~ O ~ o

Meanwhile Severus was _a tad_ nervous. He really didn’t want to mess this chance up, for himself as much as for Corbillat. It was the first time he would be teaching at Sylvan and by now he was well aware, being a natural in a subject was not the same as being a good teacher. Potions had always come as easy to him as breathing, but he needed to keep in mind that wasn’t true for everyone. Educating his goddaughter in a thing or two in the past months had actually improved his confidence in his teaching-abilities.

“How many coffees did you have already?” Jurriaan asked highly amused. Severus had never been a morning person, hence he was still half-asleep and only silently glaring at him. This didn’t face the duellist at all. He and his children had dropped by because Faramond had insisted, he absolutely, _vitally_ needed some odd trinket from James for his day at Spring School.

“It’s his second,” she answered for godfather, far too chipper for his tastes, “You can expect a conversation with him when he is half-way through his third.”

“Cheeky girl,” Severus murmured into his cup without any heat. That would required energy he didn’t have.

James chuckled and gave Faramond the batch of comics he wanted to take to _Show-and-tell-day_, “Here you go.”

“Thank you so much, Jim! This will be awesome!”

Jurriaan thanked the two as well for having them so early and issued an invitation for dinner. James would be at his place anyway, it was Van Kirk’s turn to amuse the horde until closing time. Said horde had already gathered a new member: Riley, granddaughter of the legendary Newt Scamander and the Chief of Aurors of the MACUSA Porpentina Goldstein.

Similarly to Severus, her father had opted for an upbringing a little more removed from the public and took over _Handling of magical creatures_.

Upon hearing that the seven-year-old was completely disinterested in Quidditch, dangerous animals and other possible lethal pastimes, he had almost jumped at the chance to find James a more “girlish” friend for the lack of a better term. Something to balance out Faramond’s and Leon’s latent desire for adventures. And Neville’s love for carnivorous plants. And Draco’s special streak of mischief.

Inwardly he signed, knowing the deck was stacked against him with James’ genetics alone, but he ought to try at least.

“You are looking like you have a headache,” James wondered out loud, breaking his chain of thoughts, “What is it?”

_Questioning if I do everything wrong raising you, _he mused darkly.

“It’s far too early…And since when does anyone call you _Jim_?”

James looked at him, part of her wondering just how he had survived the last ten years, as he was barely conscious between five and seven a.m.

“Faramond thinks it funny,” she explained, suspecting that the concept of Star Trek would go over her godfather’s head at the moment.

o ~ O ~ o

_2 February 1987_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

_Scotland _

Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore incessantly paced in his office, brooding over the future of Wizarding Great Britain. It was just quarter a year ago, that his former student and Dark Lord had fallen and a long war had ended. Nothing was as it should be.

While the general public was ecstatic, the ministry and its Aurors hunted down Death Eaters instead of allowing the land to heal.

Barty Crouch Senior’s reputation had suffered with the arrest and conviction of his son, but it was common knowledge, how estranged they had become since the passing of their wife, respective mother. He was still Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and more vicious than ever against Tom’s followers. His left and right hand, a grimly determinate Alastor Moody and a talented Amelia Bones, thirsting for revenge, made the whole situation worse. Barely a day went past without trials and sentencing and those were only the ones lucky enough to survive the merciless Aurors.

Fawkes thrilled from his perch, sending him the mental picture of a green-eyed little girl with a questioning tilt of his head.

“Do you miss her, my friend?” Albus smiled sadly. Things had not gone according to his plan. Roslyn was already famous beyond belief, heralded as a saviour, but she was also far out of his reach.

He still thought the law he wrote would be a great opening, maybe it was sufficient to just pressure Severus with the proposal of the bill…

Today was the start of term in Sylvan Academy and he hesitated to ponder what she might learn - far too early of course. The girl should enjoy her childhood, Hogwarts began soon enough.

There was another idea in his mind already, but he liked to think of it as a continence plan. It was a real possibility that the bill would not pass and also Severus found a way around it. He ought not to underestimate the young Potioneer again. Now Narcissa Malfoy undoubtedly dripped poison in his and little Roslyn’s ears. The sooner he could resolve this mess, the better. But Sylvan Academy was well warded and protected, attempting something made laying siege on Hogwarts look easy.

Albus popped another lemon-drop in his mouth and mused about occasions that might present themselves in the near future. One had to be prepared after all…

o ~ O ~ o

Severus dropped James of for her classes, despite the fact she knew the campus very well already. But with the disinterest his own father had shown him, he felt like he needed to make sure his goddaughter knew how much he cared. She was utterly exited for her first “real” day of school, and once she spotted Ilya in one of the rows, the last of her nerves seemed to dispatch. She hugged him goodbye and Severus tried to reassure himself while he left for his own classroom. Soon enough she would turn seven, but it felt like yesterday that she had started to speak.

Jurriaan went to his office just as he came by, guessing correctly what his sombre face meant, “Raising kids is not for cowards.”

“Indeed,” he muttered darkly, making his colleague chuckle.

“Everything ready for your new students?”

The downright wicked smirk Severus shoot him, made him think better of the question, “I don’t want to know!”

“Are you sure?” his smile only grew wider.

“Where is a crucifix when you need one!” he joked back, biting him goodbye until later, a wide grin on his face.

In his classroom were already some students waiting, eyes shining with excitement, materials on their desks. David came in while he wrote the basic rules and the semester-plan on the blackboard, “Good morning, Professor Snape!”

“Good morning, Mr. Jefferson,” the boy had made it to a place on his rather prestigious white-list, with how well he had taught James the past months and how much she looked up to the young man. Once all his new students had arrived and were silently waiting, he turned around. Severus allowed himself a small smile and began, “You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making…”

o ~ O ~ o

_15 April_

_Lecture hall 1 - 23_

_Steward Island, New Zealand_

“That’s it for today,” Professor Vasilev concluded his class, demonstratively closing his book, “You’ll get the scores within the week. I hope to see you next term and enjoy your free time.”

The tell-tale sound of several dozen knuckles rapping on cedar-desks was a lot more enthusiastic than normally, following one of the potentially mind-melting Math lessons. After seven plus years of magical education, in the worst case without even Arithmancy, facing Mathematic was a real challenge for most of them.

James closed her note-book with something similar to a relieved sight. She enjoyed the class, but despite the fact it was ‘starting from the basics’, Ilya’s father had set quite the peace, making it one of her more demanding courses.

Packing her things, she realised it, she had just finished her first term at Sylvan Academy and well on top of that.

Most of the older students didn’t pay her too much attention, accustomed to seeing children under twelve and younger in some courses and James was happy with it. The relative anonymity suited her just fine and there were enough friendly faces to keep her from becoming lonely.

It was different, compared to her life in England and _different_ was good in her mind. And now, after more than six months since she had lost her parents, she believed, things could work…

“Ms Potter?”

She flinched, having being so deep in her own musings, she was the last student in the hall. Isaac Vasilev looked at her over his gold-rimmed glasses, “It seems big thoughts are going through that young head of yours.”

“Nothing worse than the multiplication table,” she answered with a smile of her own. She liked him, he was a calm and patient teacher, a fable for useless trivia his most noticeable quirk (Along the lines of “No number between zero and nine hundred ninety-nine contained an ‘a’”.).

“Is that so? 17 times 13?”

“156,” she replied instantly.

_The small joys of Occlumency,_ she mused, _learnt once, remembered forever. Not worth having my brain cracked open weekly just for _this_, but still nice. _The downside was, of course, all trivia stuck in her mind palace as well…

“Very good,” her teacher praised, smiling at her, making the scar on the right side of his face crinkle slightly, “Have an enjoyable break.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

She strolled to the library, knowing her godfather would need at least an hour to wrap up his last class, hence there was no reason to rush home.

The librarian was a Spinster of rather benign disposition. Although rumours told, some student had ended up with their uniforms sewn to the ceiling (while they were still wearing them) for mishandling a rare first-edition. James would believe _that_ true in a heartbeat, because she knew the love Madam Salticidae had for books and… well, from a purely practical standpoint, it was entirely _doable _for her.

Spinsters were highly intelligent, humanoid sapience with skin varying between shades of green and blue, sharp features, long, thin bodies and limbs and three pair of arms. Also, they could to tricks that would’ve made Spider-man envious. Some legend described them as the descendant of Arachne, the weaver, who had bested a goddess in her craft.

Although, she seemed too… _correct_, in her finely tailored, Victorian dresses, for swinging around and stuff. James had decided, it would be even cooler if the librarian had done precisely that, still looking all prim and proper.

“Good day,” she greeted her politely, sliding her books on the counter. But mostly she watched her work, the level of multitasking never got old. Madam Salticidae smiled slightly, tipping away on her typewriter, while sorting James’ return with another pair of arms. She was also knitting something, what looked like it would become a cosy jumper in the near future, “Jim, how was the last day of term?”

Almost everyone in the Academy called her ‘Jim’ by now, even Lord Thannor had slipped once. She loved the nickname Faramond had bestowed on her and Severus had no reason to protest, so there it was.

“Delightfully uneventful. Dad wanted me to pick up some books for him? I have a list…” She trailed off, in the middle of rummaging through her bag, realising just _what_ she had said. Violently she shrugged it off, “Here, Ma’am.”

She gave her the piece of parchment over the counter, proud how little her hands shock.

The librarian was kind enough to mention neither her slip of tongue, nor her obvious distress it, regardless her face went softer, but James didn’t see that.

“They are ready,” she simply said, “As is your book on Elemental Magic. And I found an old diary, containing detailed descriptions of Stormravens and their habits.”

“Thank you very much,” James replied earnestly, having pulled herself together again.

“… Can you carry all that?”

“Nah,” She answered with a cheeky grin, taking hold of her staff and made the sizable stack float beside her.

“No lightning in the halls,” she was told, mock-sternly and she left the library in almost as good mood as when she had entered.

As expected, Severus was not yet home, but as he would be there shortly, she did not need a “babysitter”. In the post-box waited a letter sent by her grandmother.

Since she was banned from using the stove without adult supervision, she grabbed pomegranate-cherry-juice out of the freezing cabinet, sipping it while reading.

Euphemia Potter’s health was deteriorating, James had known that for months, but it was the first occasion it showed in her writing. The script was still elegant, but there were some inkblots and she could tell, when her grandmother’s hands had trembled.

Ceely, who delivered a letter or small gifts then and now, had not needed masterful persuasion to spill how sick her mistress was. Her healer did not give her at all much time. Either Euphemia was in denial herself or she didn’t care to burden her granddaughter with the truth, but the facts were there…

_I don’t want another funeral. _

Cursing under her breath, she stood up and wrote a quick note for her godfather.

**At the training-area. Will be back at six tops. **

**Hope you had a good day,**

**Love**

**J**

James had started a while ago to make her signature J like a little crow-track, which also made it look similar to the _Algiz_ rune.

With her staff she left the apartment.

As per usual, her favourite spot was vacant, Jurriaan Van Kirk had currently only three students learning how to wield a staff, her including. It was just how she liked it.

She took a deep breath and started the first exercise.

o ~ O ~ o

Three hours later (precisely four minutes to six), she unlocked the door with slightly trembling hands. Again, she had overdone it. But she still felt better than before. Regardless, Severus would not be happy.

“I am home,” she said just load enough for her godfather to hear, planning to sneak to the bathroom -

“How about I take care of your hands first?” asked a familiar voice, fond exasperation audible to her.

“Thank you,” she murmured with a rueful smile as he picks her up and sits her on the kitchen counter to look her over.

It was not _that_ bad, she mused, only visibly sore, not bleeding. The small, tree-like scar on the back of her hand, from a lightning spell gone wrong in February still appeared more vivid. James was wise enough not to voice her chain of thought.

“Just what am I going to do with you?” Severus signed and pressed a kiss against her temple before he summoned the first-aid-kit.

Gently he spread healing salve over her irritated skin, “What was it this time?”

_“Why were you so upset?”_ Was his actual question and she can’t even think about playing dump or brush it off, because it’s _him_.

“Grandma is getting worse…” and then, so low Severus can barely make it out, “and Icalledyou‘dad’infrontofMadamSalticidae.”

“Be a dear, Corbillat, and speak up for your ageing godfather,” he teased her, more than a little worried when she did not even crack a smile.

“I… called you ‘dad’ in front of Madam Salticidae,” the girl repeated, very interested in the tips of her dragon-hide boots.

Severus knew he should reassure her immediately, but was out of his depth about the _how_. He busied himself with wrapping his goddaughter’s hands (and just how small they are compared to his), thinking furiously, what to say. A rather selfish part of him was quite happy, even ecstatic at her words, how could he not be? She was the only child he would ever imagine of wanting. His little Corbillat was not to know that, she was obviously distraught by her slip of tongue, hence just swapping it aside was another option out of the window...

He tied up the dressing and opted for embracing her. She buried her face against his robe, like she had always done, even as a baby. He idly wondered if her affinity for potions simply stemmed from the constant exposure to the smells of all matter of ingredients.

After a few minutes James was a lot happier with herself and the world and bubbled away about her day and what to do during the break until next term.

Severus just smiled and listened.

Half an hour later Faramond came, asking if they wanted to come over for dinner and if Jim to see a movie afterwards.

That sounded rather agreeable, especially the food part.

The two grabbed their usual little gift for going to the Van Kirks, Severus a bottle of wine to share with Jurriaan and Charlotte, James a pack of sweets to share with Faramond and Isa. The gesture was meet, per norm, so enthusiastic, it embarrass the both of them.

“Were do you get all the good stuff?” the host asked awed and was only answered with a line about, how to think nothing of it.

It was not like Severus had a stash of wine to choose from when he got an invitation, because of his lower than average cooking still he could not return the favour without potentially poisoning someone. Not at all.

“Where is your sister?” the Potioneer inquired, trying to change the subject.

“Out with her boyfriend,” Jurriaan answered, “Why? Can you only be over when she is chaperoning?”

He was teasing, but he also asked a rather important question.

James watched fascinated as her godfather _blushed_. That was new, she had seen his face go red from furious anger on one memorable occasion, but this? She understood, both man had said more than what had been _spoken, _but the meaning completely eluded her.

“No, it’s… quite agreeable,” Sev replied a moment later and she desperately wanted to know why Jurriaan looked so pleased about such a simple answer.

Faramond and Isa caught her attention, discussing which movie to watch and she forgot that line of thought.

After dinner (homemade pizza and a chocolate cake, since end of term always warranted a little celebrating in Jurriaan’s eyes) the kids build their pillow fort. They cuddled inside of it, in a mass of blankets, facing the telly and four bowls of different sweets on the floor in front of them. Severus reasoned that once in a while the sugar intake would not harm his goddaughter and with all the training she had, her magic burned through the calories faster than her body ever could.

The children watched some cartoon movie, since Isa was too small yet to be allowed Star Trek and cuddled between her brother and friend, the little girl seemed really content, even during the slightly scarier parts.

“James trained too much again?” Jurriaan asked softly. The adults were sitting at the other end of the living room, by the fireplace, finishing the rest of the wine. 

Severus paused before answering, half-heartedly thinking, of course, James’ favourite teacher was the duellist with the vampire-ancestry, which had only added to the problem.

Jurriaan merely grinned, getting the vibe of the other’s thoughts and not faulting him for it. He liked the snarky Potioneer and the little spitfire also known as his goddaughter that Faramond had so casually befriended.

“Three hours after her last class,” he finally answered, “at least she stopped before making her skin bleed again…”

“You seem resigned,” Jurriaan more stated then asked, “Something the matter?” When he had started to train her, he had gotten quite a few dark looks from the younger man. It didn’t speak in the favour of his self-preservation at all, that he missed the thrill of it, just a little. Seeing him dote on James might lead on to think his bark was worse than his bite, but the duellist was very aware of the other man’s… skills. And it wasn’t even obvious, more like a venomous snake, slithering through tall grass at dusk.

He was brought out of his thoughts by Severus casting a privacy charm before he answered, “Yes! - A maniac with delusions of grandeur is not as dead as he should be! And I cannot gift my goddaughter a normal childhood because of him!”

Jurriaan blinked at the outburst, strangely touched, how the other felt comfortable enough to let him know just how badly it bothered him.

“I would like nothing better than forbid her from training with you, no matter how much she loves it! But every time it comes up, I can only think about, how one of the things you teach her might save her life one day! Damned!”

Jurriaan locked at him for a long moment, and then simply said, “Wow.”

“… Very eloquent, consider me impressed.”

The older man chuckled at the sarcasm, it had lost a lot of its bite these past months, “You are angry. That’s good.”

Severus was speechless, he had to mark the day on his calendar. Later, “I take it as a sign, you are getting better,” he choose her words carefully, not wanting his friend to dismiss them outright, “It’s not wrong to be sad or angry about what happened. You both survived a war, creator’s sake! If I had been in your place, I would constantly have nervous breakdowns.”

Severus mulled over the point for a few silent moments, staring at the rest of wine in his glass, “Maybe,” he finally admitted.

“She is a content child,” Jurriaan said, not quite sure if his piece of mind was welcome, but felt he had to anyway, “She has you. Children bounce back from a lot, just look at Faramond and Isa.”

The surprise on Severus’ face reminded him sharply, this subject had never come up between them. And one thing he really liked about him was, he might assume sometimes, he did so silently and without taking it as the truth.

“They are the kids of my older sister Eloise. She remarried a while back and her _new guy_…” he frowned at the phrasing, as if he had a lot more colourful words to describe the man, but refrained from it, “Anyway. He didn’t want the two around, so… I took the two in. Still not sure, if I am the right person to raise them, but…”

“You do amazing,” the younger man told him with so much certainty, Jurriaan looked at him in surprise, “They are both happy, curious, self-confident children and well cared for. Believe me, when I say, there are few things worse than growing up knowing you are resented in your own home.”

“Severus?” _Why do you sound like you are speaking out of experience?_

“I am not nearly drunken enough to talk about it,” he answered with a sad smile. _I might tell you someday, once I know you better._

Jurriaan return the smile, wanting to somehow reassure the other man, but holding himself back from a casual a touch against his arm or shoulder. That would probably be too much just yet, “Sadly the wine is out. - I could go for a coffee now, what about you?” _I can be patient._

“Coffee is the best idea you had all evening.”

“Oi, I feed you and James!”

“Yes, with _pizza_. By the glow in her eyes it’s her new favourite food!”

“You can’t raise a child on fruit, juice, grilled cheese-sandwiches and tomato-soup, Severus.”

“Watch me.”

o ~ O ~ o

_Morning_

_16 April_

_Flat 11, Alisanus Gardens, Sylvan Academy_

_Steward Island, New Zealand_

James had woken up in her bed, her godfather had carried her home the night before, after all three children had fallen asleep in the middle of their movie.

Currently she said on her favourite place in the kitchen, sipping on her hot chocolate, while Severus silently (sleepily) drank his coffee. But he was not so much out of it, he would miss his goddaughter’s restless fiddling.

“What is wrong, Corbillat?” he enquired gently.

In hindsight, she mused, she could’ve formulated it a little differently than simply blurring out, “Can I stay with grandma?”

That was certainly made clear by the way Severus chocked on his next sip of coffee. After getting his bearings back together he locked as if she had backhanded him. If she had not already rushed over to hug him, at latest she would’ve done it then, “No! Sev, I don’t mean forever! I want to live with you!”

“Do not scare me like that while I drink hot beverages,” he grumbled only half-joking, but trying to not make her feel bad about it.

Severus sat her down at the kitchen table again, which doubled as both a dining table and round table in their apartment.

“Now please tell me, what you _did_ mean, Corbillat.”

“Grandma is… - Well, the term is over, I did well and have free time at hand. I would like to spend some with her.” She took a sip and didn’t say, ‘As long as I still _can_ spend time with her’, but Severus understood anyway.

“I will talk with her and we need to organise this, but if it is what you want…” His words hung in the air between them.

He was not at all sure if it was a good idea or if it could… _harm_ her.

“She is the last close relative I have, Sev. Kendrick and Company does not really count and Petunia isn’t in the picture either.”

“Corbillat… I am just not convinced it... wouldn’t hurt you.”

“We could ask Ms Nagi,” she proposed knowing he had a point, “Listen what she thinks.”

As it turned out the mindhealer was not completely against the idea, as James would still come over and see her once a week. But she extracted the promise from the girl to tell the minute it got too much for her.

“You don’t have to do this even if you feel obligated. She is your grandmother, but we need to think of _you_.”

Tasia Nagi watched the girl mulling about what she said. Working with her was a joy and heavy duty at the same time. The first two meetings James had spoken a whole if five sentences, but only if one counted the inevitable Hellos and passing words. She still wondered why the kid had chosen her over colleagues.

“I could not say goodbye to my parents,” the girl finally said, “I want this for me, just as I want it for my grandma.”

“I see… what would you say to your mom and dad? If you had the chance?”

They had made some progress, but not on that particular front. The mindhealer was sharply reminded as James’ green eyes turned cold at the question. The girl did not like it at all when the topic of the last Samain night came up. Tasia had told her in the very beginning, she was not there to coddle her, their talks would sometimes be dirty and woefully unpleasant.

Her patient was still not happy with it.

James was stubbornly silent and her healer didn’t speak either.

_“Run_?” the six-year-old finally proposed half-heartedly. Judging by Ms Nagi’s unimpressed stare, she needed to try better.

“I don’t know,” she confessed after a while, “I did not… think... my parents might actually die. Some days I go home and I expect mom to greet me. Seeing Sev bickering in the kitchen with my dad and Sirius would not at all surprise me… But... they are… _gone_.”

And didn’t the truth hurt? She could never see mum and dad again or speak to them. No more lullabies sung by her mother, no playing with her father...

Tasia gave her - as usual - a little homework, something she was to think about, a list of certain things. She was to write a letter to her parents, not entirely unlike the one she had sent Sirius. James had not gotten an answer and at this point, she didn’t expect one. She still wrote him roughly every fortnight and would keep doing it until the end of days. Until it went through his thick skull, that she still loved him.

She did not _flee_ from the room when her fifty minutes were up, she… left with purpose. Said purpose was getting outside as fast as possible. She was past the door in record time.

James took a deep breath, feeling the crisp, clean air fill her lungs. To her, it was more soothing, than a splash of ice-cold water

“What was really on your mind?” Tom asked softly from his spot beside her. He was not truly there, not in a physical sense, still the wind ruffled his hair.

“…_Do not die for me_,” She told him darkly, the words hurt like shards of glass in her throat, “I don’t know why I thought that…”

Tom looked at his friend with a pained expression. He had no memory of his own parents, but he still sensed a void where they were _supposed_ to be.

James had loved her mom and dad, he could not even start to try and imagine how she felt. And she didn’t remember, what happened, how her mum and dad had died, something she was both glad and guilty about.

She had not said it, but it was another reason, she wanted to get to know her grandmother. That and she was done with V-Vol -

“To hell!” James groaned load, tearing at her hair, “We’ll revere to you-know-who as _damn bastard_ from now on!”

Tom looked bemused by the change of topic, but only grinned, “And why will we do so, dearest?”

“Because _fuck_ him! I hate his stupid made up name! I hate that to-many-hyphen-name dripping with fear! And I’ll never call him ‘Lord’ again!”

Her friend listened intently to her rant and understood exactly what she meant. Like she had said, _“Let it die with him”_.

That was why he nodded, smirking, “_Damn Bastard_ it is. - Why are we discussing him?”

“Because he was the reason I never really get to know my grandparents, all four of them. It was too dangerous to move around a lot and after the damn bastard got a foot into the ministry even travelling by floo was unsafe. Mom’s parents and my grandfather are already dead, I want at least to get to know grandma.”

“If my opinion counts: It is a good idea. In all likelihood it will get rough, too, but… it’s a chance you should take.”

“Thank you, Tom.”

“Always, dearest,” he replied with a soft, genuine smile.

o ~ O ~ o

_22 April 1987_

_Proudspire Manor_

_Ashwell, Rutland, East Midlands, England, Great Britain_

James woke up before Ceely came to wake her, just as it was her habit. Planning her visit had taken some time, but Euphemia had been truly ecstatic by the prospect to have her granddaughter around. Severus had dropped her off three days ago, with more stuff she could possibly need in months. Dowager Lady Potter had greeted them as any good hostess would, tea and excellent biscuits waiting for her guests.

James was glad, how well her godfather and her grandmother got along. To her delight he had almost blushed, when Euphemia had seriously and earnestly complimented his choice of new workplace and how good he cared for “my darling granddaughter”. It was nice that someone did not question Sev constantly, she found, contrary to certain other parties.

She lay in bad for a while longer, enjoying the warmth and soft sheets before starting the day. Showering, dressing, nothing special.

The little cottage the widowed Euphemia had bought after Fleamont Potter had died was rather cosy (and thankfully not as big as Malfoy Manor, through it was by no means a “little cottage”!). James had easily settled - and wasn’t that heartbreaking? She had an actual room for herself, in a home, she had never lived in? - into the routine of the house.

Eric Grey, Euphemia’s family healer, would come to see his patient around nine, by then her granddaughter had eaten her breakfast and after the visit she spend time with her grandmother. The regal woman was no longer able to leave her bed, but was always impeccably dressed, smelling freshly, sitting against a mass of cushions and happily smiling upon seeing her grandchild. The bed was gigantic and James was allowed to sit on the coverlet, listening to Euphemia’s soft voice as she spoke, or quietly reading when her grandmother dose off from the painkillers then and now.

She was just rinsing her dishes as Healer Grey gave Ceely new instructions for care and food. She liked the man with salt-and-pepper-hair and the kind eyes. Severus and Narcissa had thoroughly glared at him upon first meeting, wordlessly conveying the unspeakable things they could do to him, should harm come to James in his general vicinity. Mother-hens the both of them! She had learnt the term recently, and while she would never say it out load, in the privacy of her mind, she found it accurate.

“She really loves to have you around,” Healer Grey told her softly, before he went to leave, “You do her a world of good.”

“Grandma is going to die soon, isn’t she,” It was more a statement than a question. James knew she only imagined it, but she could _feel_ the last bits of sand falling down the hourglass when she held her grandmother’s hand.

The man grimaced at her words, clearly unsure how to discuss such a loaded topic with a young child, “She had a long and full-filling life, Lady Potter.”

“I see,” she nodded, understanding what he didn’t said.

“Do you… have someone to talk? About everything going on?”

“Yes, I will be fine,” James assured him.

She would floo over to Sylvan on Thursday, for her weekly meeting and lesson with Tasia Nagi. And Severus and Narcissa visited alternately every other day to make sure she was all right and had everything she needed. Which she had.

Euphemia truly spoiled her, telling her stories, showed her old pictures, and told her about the history of their family… She could hardly wait to hear more of the Hakims and her great-grandmother!

o ~ O ~ o

Euphemia told her some more stories that day - James was particularly fond of the legends of Merlin and King Arthur - and something she had assumed, she already knew.

“The tale of the four brothers is ancient -”

“I thought there were _three_ brothers,” her granddaughter interrupted too surprised to mind her manners, “Is that about the ones who tried to cheat death?”

“The very same. You, _Amira_, you are a descendant of Ignotus, the youngest of them. When his only grandchild, Iolanthe, married into the Potter-family, she brought all heirlooms with her and, of course, the chronics of the Peverells. It differs from what survived as a mere tale for the riffraff.”

By that point James was completely entranced, handing on Euphemia’s every word, “Please, tell me!”

“But of course, my sweet girl.”

o ~ O ~ o

_21 June 1228 _

_The woods surrounding Brindisi_

_Italy_

“Have you finally finished the runes?”

“Don’t be such a pain in the neck, Antioch!”

He bristled indigently upon Virgil’s flippant words, looking at the others for aid, but Cadmus was hiding his smirk behind his hand and Ignotus was busy with getting the wards aliened correctly.

“Have a little respect!”

“I would, had Lady Slytherin not thrown you out of the rune lessons!” Now even the youngest was grinning.

“Not each of us can be a genius!” Antioch gave back hotly. At twenty-seven he was the oldest of them, albeit Cadmus was only a year younger. Next in age was Virgil at age twenty and then Ignotus, who had just finished schooling during his seventeenth summer.

The older three were not at all comfortable with the youngest joining their little band of sell-wands, but what else was there? Lord and Lady Peverell had died when Ignotus was barely two winters, Hogwarts had been a saving grace then. But afterwards, they needed to find something earn their own living.

Ten years ago Antioch had started this line of work, very aware, his magic was suited for fighting and than he had no mind of a scholar. He killed kelps, acromantulas and other creatures for money. Cadmus had joined him, following the death of his dear Tacita, due to Dragon-pox, the loss had ruined the whole village of Hogsmead for him.

Virgil had wanted to travel after Hogwarts and decided, keeping his brothers alive at same time was a worthy cause. Then they had started to leave the Scotland and England and explored Europe, working for whoever would pay the most.

All this brought them to their current employment: Emperor Frederick II. He had secured many wands for his crusade. He had postponed his endeavour so times the pope had decided to excommunicate him (which meant nothing to the wizards, but was apparently a big deal for the Muggles). Not that any of the Peverell-brothers cared for politics of any kind. The pay was good and the opportunity to see Jerusalem had been too much of a temptation for both Virgil and Ignotus.

In a week’s time they would leave, but the journey promised to be dangerous, the Peverell’s needed a little more than just wands to face the East.

“Done,” Virgil announced after he had drawn the last rune, cleaning his hands of the blood he had used for his task. The bloodmage had created seven rows of magical charged symbols, both for summoning and their protection.

“Does it mean we can get rid of _that_?” Cadmus mentioned to the pile of bloodless bodies not too far away. He was a little creped out by the mass of crows and ravens it attracted.

“Later. I don’t want the smoke, or residual magic to interfere with the ritual,” he smirked, “One can never be too careful when summoning a _Divine_.”

Ignotus nodded, also ready, “The wards will hold. Lady Helga Hufflepuff herself created them.”

Antioch mustered the cycle grimly, not all enthusiastic about the plan, but knew it was a quite necessary evil, “So it begins.”

The ritual was not as complicated as one would expect, the preparations had been the most time-consuming and tricky part. Now it was a matter of channelling magic into the elaborated piece of craftsmanship.

It started slowly, smoke began to gather within the cycle. Clever the Peverells might be, but none of them had a clue, just what they were dabbling in.

As the shadowy being was visible, a hooded creature, not dissimilar to a Dementor, holding a dangerously gleaming sync, the four assumed it was a success.

But the ritual had merely raised Deaths curiosity with their magic. They had taken a form, the brothers expected and was by no means _‘bound’_. Virgil did not know that when he stepped forward, arrogant enough to think his bloodmagic had enslaved the embodiment of one of nature’s laws, “We, who have summoned you, Divine, demand your service!”

Death almost laughed at the mortals’ stupidity - naivety. This hubris had to be punished and they would choose their downfall.

“Speak, mortals.”

Bold Antioch was the first, demanding a wand powerful beyond any other.

“It will win any duel for its master,” Death said, handing the prized item over.

A wand of elder wood, a core of Thestral heart string.

“I…” Cadmus wavered for a moment before he spoke, his thoughts far from the battle-field, “I wish for a way to bring back the deceased.”

His mind was open to the Divine, proclaiming his love for the long gone Tacita and all the memories he had of her. Deciding on a fitting bane, Death took a small obsidian and gave it to the second brother, “Turn it four times, the dead will answer.”

Ignotus had watched wearily how the other two received their prices, thinking he needed something else, “I wish for a way to hide from everyone, even you.”

After a moment the Divine wove a fabric of air and shadows, the cloak of invisibility, and handed it to the youngest brother.

“Now you,” Death looked at Virgil, whose eyes shone green with magic.

“I wish to go everywhere at will, even to the afterlife and to return.”

At this point, the Divine had only planned to punish the arrogant little mortal like the other, but the sheer insolence of his _demand _woke anger older than life on earth.

They summoned a golden coin, one which had weighted down the eyelids of a witch that had been buried ages ago, holding it out for Virgil to take. The metal felt strangely cold and the Divine’s skeletal hand grabbed his wrist, pulling him forward.

“I curse you with lengthy lives,” Death said softly, “To see all you cherish die in time. Until your last day you shall be able to see beyond the Veil, but no further.” After those fore-bonding words, the Divine… _dispatched_. And Virgil tried to shake of the lingering feeling of dread, holding onto his coin that would not warm however long he touched it.

The brothers were quite happy with the boons anyway. They destroyed all evidence of their doing and went back for the army’s camp.

Almost immediately upon his return, Antioch sought out a wizard he had duelled a few days ago. This time, the other man did not survive and the oldest Peverell boasted about his new wand and his invincibility, something none of his brothers thought wise. But then, intelligence had never been his strong suit.

Cadmus retreated to his own tent and summoned Tacita. She was not a ghost, not a true living being either, but he was just too happy to see her again to worry about it.

The next day, Virgil discovered his eldest brother cold on his bed, his throat slit and his Elderwand gone. And could not help but wonder, if that was the doing of Death’s curse on him.

Over the week all worked hard to organise the departure, but Cadmus went paler and thinner.

The day before they were to leave, Ignotus found him dead in the forest. He had hung himself. The longing to truly be with Tacita again, had prove to be too much.

Stricken with grieve, Ignotus decided to go back to Hogsmead, where Antioch’s wife and their son and Cadmus’ daughter still resided. He was sure he could find something useful to do.

Virgil elected to travel, since he now had the means to do just that. They parted and never saw each other again.

Ignotus Peverell returned to his home and after many years of a fulfilled live he gave his son his cloak of invisibility. When Death finally came for him, he greeted him as an old friend.

o ~ O ~ o

James had listened intently, fascinated with the tale, “What became of Virgil Peverell?”

“The chronic does not speak of him any further. Maybe he travelled and stayed somewhere he felt at home, had a family, until Death claimed him.”

“...Or he just didn’t want to watch his loved ones die,” her granddaughter mused out load, feeling cold at the mere thought. What a horrible curse.

Euphemia frowned slightly. She had been raised learning the “Old Way”, as it was called on the British Isles, and the tale spoke of a punishment well deserved and not to play with things one did not understand. But of course, her compassionate and orphaned granddaughter had a very different point of view.

“But maybe he found his luck elsewhere,” she said gently, “And knew to consider the consequences of his doing.”

James nodded, not at all agreeing, but didn’t want to argue either.

“I like the idea… Aunt Cissy told me about the Divines. She thinks, I need to learn the ‘Old Path’. Because it’s tradition.”

Her grandmother approved highly that a witch - from her family no less, the daughter of cousin Cygnus - had started to educate her properly. Euphemia was very aware, she would not see her granddaughter growing up, but knowing she was raised with love and care by Severus Snape and Narcissa Malfoy would allow her to rest in peace. Until then, she wanted to teach her as much as she was able to.

What followed was another lecture disguised as story-time: The large family tree of the noble and ancient house of Potter. While James had inherited the chronics, dead pages could only do so much to breath live into her ancestors. There was to speak about, and tireless she answered her granddaughter’s numerous questions.

She started with Linfred of Stinchcombe, a brilliant Potioneer (that little fact pleased his descendent to no end), who’s son married Iolanthe Peverell, Ignotus Peverell’s granddaughter.

In later years Leonida Gryffindor bonded to Henry Potter, by then the ‘Potters’ were already a very wealthy family and had been granted a seat at the Wizengamot.

Lady Henrietta Potter, head of house in the 14th century had forbidden current and future generations to marry inside the family, while all of Great Britain’s Purebloods started to wed their cousins. That, Euphemia explained, was why the wizarding community was not to put out with James’ and Lily’s marriage. The other family’s accepted the traditions and the Potters enjoyed more leeway, since all the members were regarded as a “little eccentric”.

Ralston Potter had been a strong advocate to install the Statue of Secrecy at the end of the 17th century and by then that was already common knowledge. The Potters would _get things done_, even without playing by the rules all the time.

It was long after lunch when Euphemia started speaking about ‘her’ families. She was the daughter of Aries Black and Rana Hakim, who came from Tel Aviv, the oldest child of a clan famous for both their healers and battle-mages.

o ~ O ~ o

The days went by pleasantly, although Euphemia’s need for sleep grew each day.

Ceely tried to entertain James as best as she could. When she started to miss the potion-lessons with her godfather, she asked the houseelf to teach her cooking. Ceely was all too happy to have company in the kitchen, showing her how to cut vegetables and meat correctly, to tell herbs and spices apart by taste and smell. All in all it was very useful since Severus attempts at cocking were… mostly that. Attempts. A little more variety besides tomato-soup and grilled cheese-sandwiches could only be a good thing.

“You really made this?” Euphemia asked delighted upon trying the semolina pudding. It was delicious.

“I just helped,” she said modestly, but Ceely had none of it.

“Little Lady James is so careful and conscientious in the kitchens! Ceely fears she will cook better than Ceely in no time!”

That made the girl smile, “Thank you very much. You are a great teacher.”

The elf beamed so widely, the corners of her mouth almost reached her ears, “Ceely is very welcome and very pleased to have little Lady James with us!”

James joined her grandmother for breakfast, mostly nibbling on her toast. She had already been at Sylvan, for her weekly talk with Healer Nagi and was still mulling over some things they had spoken about.

“A Lady, who can cook, now I have seen everything,” Euphemia mused smiling.

Her granddaughter frowned at the title, something which did not go unnoticed.

“You are a Lady now. You are too young now to fully understand, but it is important that you act like it.”

She lowly chuckled when she saw the girl grimace again. James had heard quite some lectures from Narcissa and Alice already regarding ‘ladyship businesses. How she should walk, speak…

“Nothing of that,” Euphemia smoothed her, guessing her thoughts, “There is more to being a Lady than the proper way to drink your tea. It means responsibility, how you act, what you do carries far. And you need to learn, to be prepared and how I regret, I will not be present to see the woman you shall become…”

“A scarred one,” James joked weakly, tearing up at the thought of her grandmother passing.

“You look like my Fleamont,” Euphemia said gently, “His nose, his cheekbones. I see him in the shine of your eyes. And I can see my mother as well. You have her colouring, her bearing. Your great-grandmother was a proud, brave woman and I do not doubt you will be just as stunning, Amira.”

The old Lady was silent for a long moment, seemingly lost in her own thoughts.

She looked at her granddaughter, the last direct descent of the Potter-family. A little girl with her late father’s name and eyes like the curse that had killed her parents. The very idea of heaving yet another burden on these small shoulders made her feel sick.

But if she wanted this child to truly thrive, James needed to know the truth.


	13. Do you leave a legacy or another curse?

_24 April 1987_

_Proudspire Manor_

_Ashwell, Rutland, East Midlands, England, Great Britain_

James had packed her things, despite Ceely’s protests that it was ‘houseelf work’. Severus would pick her up the day after tomorrow, the second term at Sylvan started on May first. She missed her classes, especially her training in Elemental Magic. Her powers were aching to be let loose again.

But she would cherish the time spent with her grandma...

Shaking her head, she told herself to enjoy the two days she had left. After breakfast she brought Euphemia tea and scones.

“You spoil me,” her grandmother said softly, smiling at both the girl and faithful houseelf.

“Everything for Lady Potter,” Ceely answered dutifully.

While still a child, James had quite sensitivity for magic and the vibes of a room. She could tell that today’s talk would be different somehow.

“I have told you a lot about the family these past days…” Euphemia finally, heavily started.

She merely nodded, unsure why she felt on edge, but waited her grandmother out.

The old woman let out a tired, world-weary sign, “You are a child of warriors, for better and for worse, Amira. The decedent of fighters, protecting those who are without aid. Not always by own choices, some died an honour death in battlefield, but we do not yield...”

“Sometimes you simply cannot. I remember the times of Grindelwald’s war... It was devastating. Not only on the continent. London burned, Coventry was but a ruin…”

“I held Prime Minister Churchill in highest regard, for he saw the truth when others spoke of pacts or surrender: _Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival_.”

A shiver went down James’ spine and she avidly waited for Euphemia to go on.

“Three days earlier he had been told magic existed, that the war had started years before. But his resolve was unbroken. Do you know why?”

Tom had described James the Second World War, mainly his own, scattered memories of it, and she had read a little about it, but was not able yet to grasp in all its depth. Still she thought the question over, wondering where their talk was going this time.

“Maybe… he wanted to set an example?”

“Very good. The muggles needed a strong leader, more than anything else. We magicals had Dumbledore, they had Churchill.”

Euphemia was not happy to cut a rather complicated lesson in history so short, even to make a point. There had been so many factors, all the events leading up to a horrible war. But James was far too young to understand all of it, precocious as she was. And it would be no good in her knowing that Voldemort was looking like a misbehaving schoolboy next to Grindelwald.

For the millionth time she lamented her age and failing health. Had the bastard shown his face a little sooner, she would’ve taught him, why the German soldiers had only dared to whisper about the ‘Schwarze Hexe`. She had been able to move fast as a shadow back then, none ever saw her blade coming. She had Fleamont had made it their daily competition, who killed more boxheads. Good times.

“But yesterday you said people wanting to be saved by one person are stupid!” These words dragged her out of her wistful daydream.

, she had been teaching. Every day it got harder to keep her thoughts focused.

“That’s true,” she agreed, “But most humans need an inspiration to stand up and fight back.”

James didn’t quite get it, but nodded, hoping Tom would later give her a clue or five on this one.

“I told you, you are a Lady, Amira. People will look up to you in the future, they’ll want to follow your lead.”

The child shook her head, seeming older than her years, “Only because they think I smote a villain _somehow_. And that’s nonsense.”

“Oh, my little girl,” Euphemia signed sadly, reaching for her hand and James imminent feeling of doom ten-folded. Her grandmother’s hands were wrinkled; she had clean nails and calluses caused by her wand over many decades, but still soft palms, despite the hardship they had lived through.

“You must to be clever and brave, Amira. Learn to be quick, with both mind and staff.”

“Grandma?”

“How I wish I could keep this from you, but... you need to know...” Euphemia looked at her, eyes sad and hard, “Voldemort is not dead.”

The name alone would have been like a bucket of ice water for James.

She jumped off the bed, taking several backwards steps towards the large windows. As if physical space between herself and_ Voldemort is not dead_, would make it less true.

It didn’t work.

_Voldemort is not dead. Voldemort is not dead. _

** _Voldemort_ ** ** _ is not dead!_ **

It was suppose to be _over_! The war was _over_! She had gotten used to not wondering if she would see one of her family members again, every time they went out of sight! This could not be true!

“Dearest, you need to breath!” Tom’s voice pierced through the fog of ice cold panic.

She was hyperventilating and ice crystals started spreading. Around her cramping hands, on her clothes, the carped she stood on...

“Easy! James, I am here. You are safe, you are at your grandmother’s. Nobody is going to hurt you;” he spoke softly, rubbing her shoulders and face white with worry, “Breath, slowly. In… out… Just like that. Press your lips together. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth… Easy… Dearest, I am here. No one is going to hurt you, I promise.”

It took her quite a while to calm down, but concentrating on Tom’s voice helped.

“Thank you…” she finally whispered.

“Of course.” He didn’t even ask, if he should leave. When she faced her grandmother again he was right by her side, one arm wrapped around her.

“Say, it’s not true!” James inwardly begged it was just her imagine, a cruel joke, anything but reality. The thought alone made her want to throw up.

“I am so sorry, but it is the truth.”

“Why did you tell me? _Why?_”

Euphemia softly padded to the bed and reluctantly James sat there.

“You are young, but you need to know this. You are save at your Academy and with Severus. But that won’t always be the case.”

“But… How? They found his… body, they… they _burned_ it!”

“He utilized vile, black magic,” her grandmother used simple words, knowing the shock was bad enough as it was, “He is weakened and far away, probably more spirit than man.”

_That sounds like the demon I remember…_

Tom hugged her tighter upon hearing her thoughts.

“One day, he will want revenge,” Euphemia concluded mercilessly.

James didn’t reply. There was a violent headache ravaging behind her right eye and her knees felt like jello. Feeling strangely faint, she curled into herself on the soft blanked and simply blacked out.

o ~ O ~ o

James slept for five hours and was surprised when she woke up without screaming her lungs out from a nightmare. She had dreamed, but nothing of the terrifying images her mind conjured sometimes. All she remembered was her mom singing for her… 

A quick look revealed that her grandmother napped, like she usual did at this time of the day. There were tear-tracks on her aged face.

“She didn’t want to say it, did she?”

“No,” Tom answered softly, not moving from his spot by her side, hands combing through her hair, “She cried for over an hour after you passed out. How sorry she was, that it was so unfair to you… I think, she felt she needed telling you, but she hates herself for it.”

“I hate her for it,” James murmured darkly.

“You couldn’t, even if you truly wanted to,” he said softly, lying down across from her, “The people you care about, you love with all you’ve got. Friends, family, godfathers… your personal orphaned spirit.”

She locked eyes with him, aware that he might look her age, but was definitely not. He spoke like he had hated a lot and cared very little in a past life. But the fondness in his voice told her, he didn’t consider James’ compassion a bad thing. And he was right, the people she cared about, she loved and the rest she simply ignored for the most part. Voldemort had been the sole exception. Now, she reckoned, he was the exception again.

“… _Fine_. But I am angry with her.”

“I know. And you have every right to be.”

She nodded, more to herself than to him and sneaked out of the room.

Wrapped in her Sylvan-cloak she left the house. If one of “her” adults _ever_ found out about this breaking an important rule so carelessly, they might ground James until she was of age.

Not that she cared at the moment, she needed to breath!

And she really doubted, Death Eaters would pop up in Ashwell in arse-end-of-nowhere-Rutland.

“If the protagonist of a story ever utters such a thought out load,” Tom said, an attempt at lightening her mood, “not five seconds later the bad guys will show up. Just because.”

“Well, praise the gods this is not a novel,” she shut down his try at banter.

Striding through a cold April-drizzle, she followed the path leading towards town.

_Voldemort is not dead…_

If her life _was_ be a book, surely the sky would turn black and green lighting had to strike, accompanied by thunder load enough to deafen someone?

Why was… everything still as before?

Tom watched her, his face not giving away his emotions, through James could’ve discerned the concern easily, had she looked at him. This thought was a concern in and on itself as well.

He was so _attached_ to her after a few short months and that discount the fact, he was a subtenant in her brain. 

Somehow he sensed, he had not done a lot of making friends before waking up in her mind palace… And how he longed to forget the truth, he had wanted to hurt his bright-eyes, companion. This plan about killing her, taking over her body... he still didn’t know what had possessed him, but it had felt more like a compulsion rather than his own thoughts...

Now it pained him, that he couldn’t do anything to help her. He was unable to make her grandmother’s words unsaid and against Voldemort himself, he would’ve had even worse cards than James herself.

Stopping at a wooden bridge, she peered down into the black water.

“What can I do?” Tom asked at last, not able to endure the silence anymore.

“I don’t know… What do_ I _do now?”

“Nothing really changed,” he voiced his thoughts after a while, “He was alive all along, you just didn’t knew it. Lady Euphemia is right, you are save at Sylvan. And it could take the damn bastard well over a decade to pull himself together, maybe even longer. You… you have time.”

James mused about it a long moment, finding some truth in them. Ten years, seemed like an eternity to her.

But an eternity, that she had to make use of. She would not stand aside when _someone_ threatened everything she cared for again.

She went back to Proudspire, where Ceely waited for her at the door. Instead of receiving a scolding (what James had whole-heartedly expected), the kind houseelf ushered her into the kitchen, spoiling her with sweetened tea and lemon-shortbread-cookies.

“Are you not going to tell grandma, I left the house? Alone?”

“Lady Potter did not ask, so Ceely does not have to tell,” she explained matter-of-factly, without interrupting her preparations for dinner.

“But she is your…” the girl bit her lip. ‘Owner’ sounded wrong, she was a living, feeling creature and James liked her quite a lot. Yet, Euphemia owned her, similar to a piece of furniture.

“Houseelves have to obey their masters and mistresses,” Ceely agreed, “But we don’t have to follow orders that are not given, or reveal truths we are not asked for.”

James mulled over this, munching on another cookie, “But why not tell her?”

Ceely stopped chopping carrots for a moment before resuming her task.

Lord Fleamont and Lady Euphemia had never been cruel masters, like she knew other magicals were to their servants. Young Lord James had been a load, reckless boy and then a load, reckless man, who didn’t waste a thought on Ceely.

But little Lady James was kind, she greeted her, thanked her, apologised, even asked her teach her cooking, which brought Ceely quite a lot of joy.

And very soon, little Lady James would be her Mistress, she would not spent the rest of her life guarding a deserted cottage. She would care for her and serve her as best as she could.

“Ceely knew, little Lady James was upset and Ceely made sure nothing would happened to little Lady James. All is as it has to be.”

James could’ve sworn Ceely winked at her, but that must’ve been a trick of the light, “Thank you, Ceely - And the cookies are delicious!”

“Always, Lady James. Ceely is happy to hear that.”

o ~ O ~ o

_6.35 a.m._

_25 April 1987_

_Proudspire Manor_

_Ashwell, Rutland, East Midlands, England, Great Britain_

Looking at the clock, James grabbed her bag to floo over to Sylvan, Ms Nagi would not appreciate it, if she was late for their weekly session.

She walked past her grandmother’s bedroom and hovered there a moment, before she made up her mind and knocked.

“Yes?”

“Good morning, grandma.”

“Good morning,” Euphemia was still in bed and in her dress-like sleep-wear, but smiled, “You are off?”

“Yes,” James skipped over to her, giving her cheek a goodbye-kiss, “I’ll be back in an hour and a half.”

“Save travels, Amira,” her grandmother said, “Breakfast will wait for you.”

“Thank you. - And, grandma?”

“Yes?”

“Yesterday…” James hesitated for a moment, thinking about the right words to say it, “I wish you hadn’t told me, but I understand why you did. Don’t… don’t feel bad.”

Grey eyes misted over with tears and Euphemia smiled gently at her, “I love you, James,” she said simply.

“Love you, too, grandmother.”

o ~ O ~ o

A part of James hated those talks with Healer Nagi. They left her feeling wronged out and tiered.

She was glad to floo over to Proudspire, Severus was always on edge when he saw she had been crying. This was after almost every session.

“Good morning, Ceely,” her first stop was the kitchen. She knew that sleep would elude her and tea was way to start the day. Or to try and salvage it.

“Lady James is back! Might she like some scones? Ceely has freshly baked them.”

“Sound great,” she replied, not feeling hungry, but knowing it made Ceely happy, “Do you even sleep?”

“No! Houseelfs do not sleep, Lady James, we do not need to.”

“Who would have though…” she murmured, wondering what exactly houseelfs _were_. Ceely didn’t eat, rest or cared about anything apart from her duties in house and garden.

“I’ll bring grandma her tea,” she said absentmindedly. Making the tray levitate in front of her, she still mused about interesting things of no consequence. Like the nature of houseelfs and if Sev would be against her taking lessons in Hippogriff-riding that Professor Scamander offered in the coming term. Or rather, how she could persuade him, to let her attend…

“Grandmother, I am back and brought -”

James stood and didn’t understand why she was so calm.

Euphemia Potter looked like she had left her, lying in her bed, probed up against her pillows, face towards the sunshine coming in through the giant windows. Her eyes were closes and there was a serene smile on her aged lips.

To an outsider, it might have been horrible, but James knew this perfect stillness, the feeling of _nothingness, _that was dispatching magic.

“Peace upon your soul, grandmother,” she whispered, standing next to the bed and then called Ceely. The houseelf seemed unsurprised, more relieved than saddened actually. She disappeared to inform Healer Grey and the priest. James went with numb limps to the fireplace to floo Severus.

o ~ O ~ o

_1 May 1987_

_Tomb of the Potter-family, northeast section of the Old Skyreach Graveyard _

_Cardiff, Wales_

James stood next to her grandmother’s coffin, listening to the heartfelt speeches, glad her godfather was holding her hand.

There were a lot more people present than at her parent’s service. Many of them Aurors and veterans that had fought alongside Euphemia and Fleamont during the Second World War, magicals and mundanes from five countries. Almost all the members of the Wizengamot, and a lot of witches and wizards James didn’t know, but had been friends or acquaintances of her grandmother for one reason or another.

Euphemia had long ago planned her own funeral and left detailed instructions with her lawyer and Gringotts. Her granddaughter had only to come and stand in her place.

For James, this was easier than burying her mom and dad. And it was a big difference that her grandmother had felt asleep to not wake up again… Still it hurt and she just silently let the words of condolence and grieve wash over her.

“Your grandparents were fine people, kid,” a rough and aged Lieutenant named Raine told her grimly, with a strong American accent, “Damn shame, it’s always the best.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Narcissa hugged her about every ten minutes, quite distraught herself, that she had outlived yet another member of the Blacks.

Kendrick Potter’s family was there as well, ignoring James for the most part, aside from Henry shooting her curious looks. But Richard Locksley, Marian’s ward, approached her shortly before they left.

“I… I am sorry for your lose,” he said, clearly unsure of himself and what he was doing, but still determinate to go through with it.

“Thank you. Your words are sincerely appreciated,” the set phrase was rehearsed, but she meant it, even tried and gifted him a small smile.

Richard beamed, obviously relieved, that he had not made an ass out of himself, “Keep your chin up, will you.”

“You too.”

He gave her a final nod and returned to Marian’s side. Despite the numb haze James currently lived in, she saw the look of disdain on Kendrick’s face when he watched Richard. She didn’t at all like that, but there was nothing she could do about it.

James held her mostly silent vigil at the grave, staring at the stone, knowing she had buried more than a family-member to today. Tom’s arms were wrapped around her, not real for anyone but her.

Euphemia was laid to rest next to her husband Lord Fleamont Eldridge Potter, James’ grandfather, like she had wished.

Her gaze wandered over the countless names, twelve generation’s of her family had found their peace here, in this dark, underground cathedral.

Her great-grandparent’s Henry and Iolanthe. Septimus, Harry, Leonida...

Too many and as much as she liked the idea of ‘keeping everyone together’, her parent’s graves in Godric’s hollow seemed less gloomy than the age-old tome.

The newest tombstone had the inscription:

**~ + ~**

**Here lies Lady Euphemia Rana Potter**

**Adored wife**

**Cherished mother**

**Trusted friend**

**Inestimable ally**

**Feared enemy**

**~ + ~**

**The world is a darker place for her absence**

**Afterlife is brighter as she is awaiting us**

**~ + ~**

“_How do you move on? You move on when your heart finally understands that there is no turning back_…” James quoted in a low voice.

“Tolkien?” Tom asked softly, finding the words both beautiful and fitting.

His one friend in the world nodded, “Yes... and now I know what he was saying...”

o ~ O ~ o

_2 May 1987_

_Training-field for duelling (beginners), Sylvan Academy_

_Steward Island, New Zealand_

Jurriaan stared at the child in front of him that did not even qualify yet as a ‘slip of a girl’ and was not able to comprehend what she had just asked, “Come again?”

“Will you _please_ teach me how to duel?”

So he heard her right, which begged one important question, “Why the hell do you want to learn to fight?!”

Jurriaan had no illusions about the firecracker’s upbringing. He knew very well that she did not mean ‘duel’ in the way of bowing correctly and the other fancy stuff; She wanted to know the best way to kick peoples’ arses.

James Potter tilted her head to the side, a tick he was familiar with by now, “Do I need a reason?”

“You are not even seven, Jim.” He deadpanned, “Yes, if you want me to train you, I need a lot more than _‘just because’_.”

He idly wondered if this had anything to do with Euphemia Potter’s death. It was not that he didn’t _want _to train her. She was his youngest student, but among the most dedicated. While magic was coming easy to her, he knew how much she learnt. She pooled over her books for hours once her lessons for the day were done. But she was only _six_! Even younger than Faramond.

“I think…” James shifted from one foot on the other and then apparently deciding to speak the truth, “Grandma said… the damn bastard… you-know-who is still alive.”

Jurriaan froze upon hearing those words. It was a close-knit cycle - Lord Thannor, Tasia, Charlotte, Severus, he himself and that Dumbledore-character -, who knew about Voldemort’s Horcruxes. They had all agreed to keep it on a need-to-know-base for the time being. How had her grandmother found out? Had Severus told her out of a sense of duty? Or the Hogwarts headmaster, as an attempt to sway things his way? The latter seemed more likely, but the result remained the same: James knew the truth at an age too young to deal with it!

Heavily he sat down, wishing for a whiskey - or at least a strong coffee, “When did she tell you?”

“The day before she died. She thought I needed to start learning. That I am save here for the moment, but… _he_ will come back. All things considerate, I _will_ be point one on his list.”

“How can you be so calm about this?!” Seriously, it was scary how easily she seemed to accept she was on the kill-list of a not-dead Dark Lord!

“I freaked out and didn’t change a thing! You taught me, I can only control, how I react to the world, not how the world _is_!”

He searched the gaze of her green, age-old eyes. Something more had happened during the last Samain night, he just knew it. No child had such a reign on their emotions, not even with Occlumency-training.

And James was scared, terrified, by the prospect of Voldemort returning to power. That at least, was reassuring, but the fear was out powered by determination, a sheer stubbornness, he was also familiar with.

The one that made her train until the blisters on her hands bleed and even then kept her going.

“Did you speak with Severus? About you-know-who?”

“No,” she admitted after a long moment, “I mean… Jurriaan, he is getting better! He finally stopped flinching at shadows and casting security charms like they are going out of fashion!”

She had carried a horrible truth around for almost a week, not wanting to burden her godfather. He felt thorn between hugging her and screaming at her. Creator help him, because he cared for both these menaces, too strong and prideful and fucking stubborn for their own good!

“Oh, Jim…”

James looked at him with misty eyes, as if she expected a punishment.

“I am not angry,” he reassured her softly, “truly not. This is just… damn!”

“Do we _have_ to tell Sev?”

Jurriaan sighed again. She was not worried about a punishment, of course not, but about her godfather.

It was _so_ not his place to reveal to her that they had known Voldemort living for months now… The whole situation was a mess!

“Yes, we need to talk with him, Jim - I know, you are worried,” he added before she could protest, “But you trusted me enough to tell me, right?”

The child nodded, reluctantly, but she listened still.

“Then please trust me on this, too. Severus is your godfather, the one to look out for you, not the other way around. And he likely senses, that something is off, Jim. He knows you too well, not to.”

“… You are right…” she sounded so defeated, it almost broke Jurriaan’s heart.

“Jim,” he made her look up at him again, “Trust me. We will work this out.”

“… Promise?”

“I promise.”

James trailed after Jurriaan, not at all sure if she had done the right thing, but knew she had to tell _someone_. The knowledge had driven her up the walls ever since her grandmother had died.

This was the first time in her life she dreaded talking to Sev and it felt _wrong_. The upside was, she didn’t have to do it alone…

They were barely through the door of the apartment when Severus came to greet her, expecting only his goddaughter and frowned upon seeing them, “Corbillat… Jurriaan, what is wrong?”

Of course he knew by just looking at them, the apprehension and worry was plainly written all over their faces.

“Maybe we should make tea before we talk,” Jurriaan proposed and instantly regretted his words.

Severus knew Jurriaan didn’t drink tea, like ever. But the potion master favoured it whenever there were serious things to discuss or troubles to soothe.

“Are hurt?” of course his mind would jump to that conclusion first, looking his godchild over with critical eyes.

“No, Sev,” she answered, fidgeting with her staff, “Nobody is hurt.”

He frowned at the two of them, arms crossed and clearly not comfortable with not knowing what this was about.

James shifted uncomfortable from one foot to the other, “I would like cherry-tea. Please?”

Severus mustered them another moment before he gave in with a sign and went to the kitchen.

Very few minutes later, since he had not at all the patience to wait for the water to boil on the stove, the three sat around the table. James clutched to her cup of the for tea for dear life and even Jurriaan had opted for tea instead of his usual coffee. He had been so free to give both his and Severus tea a generous shot of whiskey, which had clearly not at all comforted the younger man. But if this kind of talk did not warranted alcohol, none did.

Taking a sip from his hot beverage, he decided to begin, “James… has confined in me, her grandmother told her, that Vol - _you-know-who,_” he corrected himself, seeing the girl flinch, “is not dead.”

There was no way to sugar-coat it, not in the slightest.

Silence followed. Severus just stared at him and after a long moment, he took a deep gulp from his laced tea.

“Sev?” James asked lowly, watching him like a hawk.

He squeezed her hand, looking at her with soft eyes, “I am so very sorry, Corbillat. We -_ I_ knew he was not dead,” he began explaining, “After everything that happened, I didn’t want to tell you, not now at least, not until you were a good deal older. And honestly, I hoped we would be able to… solve the problem before the time. I don’t know how Euphemia was aware of this, but I wish she had approached me, I would’ve talked with her… I am sorry, she told you, Corbillat.”

A long moment James was simply stunned. But then it made perfect sense to her. In her mind, Severus was the most intelligent person alive,_ of course_ he would know. And he had always protected her, no matter against whom or what.

Hopping from her chair, she rushed over to him and he easily picked her up and hold her close, “I promise, you are save.”

“I know,” she whispered happily, almost boneless with relieve and content, “Love you, Sev.”

“Love you, too, Corbillat.”

James peeked up at him, with a wide smile, one he had not sense in more than two weeks “Can Jurriaan still teach me duelling? It was my idea,” she added upon seeing Severus shooting the older man a positively withering glare, “Is that so?”

_“Pleeeease?”_

“… Maybe. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

It was not long after, James fell asleep on Severus’ lap, a content little smile on her lips.

“Thank you,” he told Jurriaan earnestly, when the other was standing up to make his goodbye, “I am happy she spoke with you. And… glad for your company.”

“Of course,” he stood a moment, a somehow indecisive expression on his handsome face, before he smiled at him, “And keeping you company is a pleasure, not a chore.”

“Jurriaan, someone else than me would be more… deserving of your attention,” Severus murmured, not looking at him, feeling terribly awkward.

“Is that your way of saying my _affection_ is not welcome?”

There was the barely-there blush he had been hoping for, “No. I meant what I said.”

Boldly, he took hold of Severus’ hand and brushed a kiss against the knuckles, “Than let me be the judge of who deserves my attention and affection,” he whispered warmly.

Severus retrieved his hand with murmuring something about ‘sappy’ and ‘emotional’, but his blush was a lot more pronounced and a small smile played on his lips.

Jurriaan counted that as an absolute win and went home beaming Just like he had promised James, they would work things out.

o ~ O ~ o

_13 May 1987_

_Flat 11, Alisanus Gardens, Sylvan Academy_

_Steward Island, New Zealand_

Severus watched James gather her things before leaving. He had offered to go with her, but she opted for Narcissa’s company, stating that there was no need for them both to miss another day of classes. It was painfully obvious she would rather stay and learn than go.

Today her grandmother’s last will was to be read and the girl had taken great care to make herself presentable, even tamed her hair with clips.

The robe was a gift from Narcissa, tailored and decorated so simply, he knew it had cost a small fortune. James looked her part of a (very) young Lady in it.

What irked him was the colour.

“Corbillat, why don’t you change into something else?” he asked tentatively, knowing it was not the best time to have this conversation, but unable to help himself.

She looked at him like he had grown a second head, probably because he had never before commented on her choice of clothing, “Why would I?”

“You wore nothing but black for two weeks.”

“I am in mourning, of course I wear only black! As I will be for the next eleven and a half months.”

Her answer stunned him, “I didn’t… Neither your mum nor dad would expect you to do this. You know that, right?”

“It’s for grandma. She did care about traditions - and who else will do it but me?”

What could he say to her reasoning? Instead, he gave her a hug and a kiss to her forehead, the side not hidden by her bangs.

o ~ O ~ o

_13 May 1987_

_Gringotts Bank_

_Diagon Alley, London, England_

James was not at all feeling like dealing with another day of protocols and paperwork, but it was the reading of her grandmother’s will. She had to see it through for her, with as much grace as she was able to muster.

Kendrick Potter was there already, without his family this time and did nothing to hide the sneer on his face upon seeing her, “What are _you_ doing here?”

“What do you _think_?” she shoot back, very aware that Narcissa did not approve, but could not bring herself to care, “And as I am your Head of House, be advised to address me with my title!”

He swallowed hard, probably wanting to give her a few chosen words, not suited for polite company, but did not dare to, “I doubt you’ll receive anything today, _Lady Potter,_” he forced out between gritted teeth, “As a born Black, Aunt Euphemia knew the value of blood. And it’s purity.”

Next to James, Narcissa almost visually bristled, “Mind your words. Least they may be misunderstood.”

He wanted to argue, but thankfully the clock struck eleven in this moment and an ancient looking goblin, Narok, who had read her parents wills as well, began the proceedings.

The whole ordeal went exactly as James expected (and she made a point to remember the correct title ‘chief legal scholar’) and she just waited for it to be over.

_“All my liquid funds, belongings, all rights to the vaults 89 and 112 at Gringotts and all my properties, including Proudspire Manor in Ashwell, I pass on to my beloved granddaughter Lady Roslyn James Acacia Potter._

_Euphemia Rana Potter_

_Proudspire Manor, 1 November 1986”_

“WHAT? HOW CAN THIS BE?!”

_The day after mum and dad died, she changed it to leave it all to me…,_ James noted numbly, ignoring Kendrick’s temper tantrum.

“HOW IS THIS… HOW IS _SHE_ GETTING EVERYTHING?!”

_I need to ask Ceely if she wants to stay at Proudspire or live with Sev and me, _she thought, _I should’ve asked Sev about it beforehand…_

“SHE IS JUST A UPPITY MUDBLOOD!”

“Are you quite finished?” James inquired, using the icy tone Severus reserved for the dumbest of people. By now she was rather good mimicking it.

He looked at her, real hatred burning in his eyes and she might be only six, but she had encountered tangible horror before. He was just an entitled brat, “Use that slur in my presents once more and you find yourself without a family name.”

Kendrick blanched at the threat, “You can’t…” he trailed of, realising she very well _could_ cast him out. It was a matter of filing three documents and he would be done for.

“I… I apologise… Lady Potter. I - It won’t happen again.”

She merely nodded, a bad feeling in her guts that the fight with him was far from over, as she watched him all but flee from the room.

“It was not wise to threaten him this way,” Narcissa advised her lowly, “Casting out should always be your last mean to exerting pressure. Next time try something else to start.”

“Like what? I can’t really demand an Honour-duel.”

Had she been a witch of less self-control, she would’ve bitten her lips to keep herself from snickering. James was already quite good wilding her magic, and Kendrick was a wizard of pathetic skills, in a year tops, she would wipe the floor with him.

“I see we have something else I need to teach you,” she said instead, smiling at the low groan from her niece.

James stood, greeting her account manager as he came over.

“May your gold always flow. I see you far too often for all the wrong reasons, Lady Potter,” he said softly, “My sincerest condolence.”

“May your gold always flow. Thank you, Redblade.”

The goblin watched his client for a moment, then, “We have a few things to discuss, but it should not take at all long. - Lady Malfoy, we build a splendid new waiting-area for our more esteemed clients. May I ask you to stay there until I escort Lady Potter to you?”

“Of course - I’ll see you in a bit, sweetheart.”

Redblade’s office was just as she remembered, all stone and polished metals. The chair was still as comfortable and over-sized to her.

“Have you read your statements?”

James nodded, Narcissa had taken to explaining them to her and her lessons in Mathematic had helped a great deal with understanding things like interest and taxes.

Her personal vault had still the full amount of 16.000 Galleons, since Severus insisted she left that alone for when she truly needed it. And the family vaults held only little monetary value, but heirlooms and were sealed to her until she would be fifteen.

“Vault 89 holds a large sum of money and Lady Euphemia left a written recommendation with us for you. She advised, to transfer everything to your personal vault and to close 89 to avoid doubled fees.”

“… What would you say?”

Pleased by her implied trust in his knowledge, he thought about the possibilities for a moment, “Your personal vault - Vault 687 - has the least security measures of all your five vaults. And next to no fixed transactions, only the yearly payments from vault 142, which are keyed to your personal vault, not a vault number. My advice is to make vault 89 your personal one and close 687. The fees will be higher, but it will be much more secure.”

“How much is the fee for the transfer of the whole sum and the closing of 687? And how much higher is the yearly fee?” James asked, only because she had memorised, what she was suppose to ask.

Redblade grinned, “65 Galleons for transfer and closing. The yearly fee for 687 is 20 Galleons, for 89, its 75 Galleons.”

_More than 4.000 Pounds a year,_ James had quickly calculated, not at all certain this was necessary.

“Ask him how much money is in 89,” Tom proposed wisely, “If it’s more than 50.000, it’s likely worth it.”

_“No one has ever robbed Gringotts. What’s the difference between a one-hundred percent safe vault and a two-hundred percent safe vault?”_

“We don’t _know_ of any robberies in Gringotts. Do you really think they would provoke a public outcry, if it ever happened?” Tom asked, only to answer his own question, “No, they would solve the problem by dealing with the thief themselves, or sell-out the wounded parties.”

“How much is in 89?” James inquired, thinking Tom might be right. He was, more often than not.

“469.201 Galleons, 13 Sickles and 1 Knut,” by the way the goblin savoured the numbers, he had been dying to tell her. While it was a certain point of pride for Redblade to be the account manager for one of the oldest vault of Gringotts, it was so much more _fun_, to administer a large fortune.

“I thought, dad had spent everything?” James was more surprised than anything else. She was six and had grow up so sheltered, that money still had next to no meaning to her, especially not on such a large scope. She just grasped, it was quite a lot.

“Lady Euphemia was always good with finances, she invested parts of her own capital, inheritance from her family and her dowry. And Lord Fleamont didn’t leave all his assets to your late father.”

That made sense, “I would like you to transfer my money from 687 to 89 and make it my new personal vault, please”

Her request added another few parchments to the considerable stack she had to sign at the end of their talk.

“There is also vault 112, which is used to conduct various transfers. Some heirlooms are in it as well, mostly from the Hakim-family. Some properties are tied to it… Do you wish to know the details?”

James made a ‘no, thanks’-gesture with her hand, “You know what you are doing. And you probably enjoy it as well.”

He made a happy little humming-sound, “Indeed!”

They looked at each other, the interaction severed as a sharp reminder, Redblade was considered barely older than a teenager by his own kind. James just smiled, inordinately pleased, her account manager was enjoying himself, “Good to hear that. I trust you, with my business.”

Redblade gave her a deliberately dignified nod, joy and pride all but radiating of his small form.

“The last thing you need to know, vault 112 also holds a reversed sum of 100.000 Galleons. It will be paid to the ministry upon you claiming your Wizengamot seat,” seeing James puzzled expression, he explained, “It’s a tax they take from every wizard or witch claiming their seat.”

“It’s… quite a lot for something that’s considered a birthright,” she asked more than stated.

Her account manager nodded in positive, “It is. Several hereditary seats are dormant because the heirs can’t pay this sum. Some end up loaning from another house and pay with their vote.”

“Mine, would’ve been, too,” James realised with a start. Not even the family-vault had enough money any more, to pay such an amount, “So… my grandma solved a problem, she knew I would have in ten years, before I even had an inkling about it…”

“Lady Euphemia was always a woman with a great deal of foresight,” the goblin added sagely.

“That’s one way to put it…” she murmured awed.

She had to try and remember this. The good things about her grandmother, not just the burden she had settled James with. Hopefully, someday she would succeed.


	14. A letter to a Prince

_10 April 1988_

_Flat 11, Alisanus Gardens, Sylvan Academy_

_Steward Island, New Zealand_

The melody of Led Zeppelin’s _‘The Rain Song’_ filtered through the air and the only other sound was the soft rustling of parchment and the occasional hums of Severus, when he scribbled down another note. It was a mild Sunday, warm enough to allow the window to stay open and the sunlight played on the wooden floor.

The potions master had toyed with the idea of writing his own textbook since his last year at Hogwarts. Now he had the time and energy to actually work on the project. He was still sorting through all materials and working on the table of contents, but he enjoyed it immensely none the less.

Life these past months had been… _good_. Part of him was still waiting for some kind of disaster, but he was getting used to a saver, well-ordered lifestyle. Well, as ordered as life got, teaching at a school, who’s mascot was an opal eye dragon and where most of his colleagues considered potentially life-ending exercises _fun_.

He blushed a little, his thoughts digressing from his book to Jurriaan. The duellist was still flirting with him like there was no tomorrow and he would be lying, if he pretended not to like it…

“Sev, I am home!”

He smiled widely. This was by far the best thing, that had happened since they moved to Sylvan. His goddaughter was happy and flourishing.

A moment later, James came into his study, knowing an open door meant no dangerous experiments going on and she was free to enter.

She had grown only a little, making her quite small for her age, but her magic curled around her with the ozone of lightning, tangible for anyone with a lick of sense. Like usual, she wore her uniform, the only exception from her all-black attire. Her hair had grown longer, flowing down her back, interspersed with a mass of thin braids, that kept her wild locks in check.

She gave him a hug from behind, he didn’t need to look at her to know, she smiled from ear to ear, “How is your book going?”

“Just sorting through old stuff, nothing new to brew for you today.”

She had been all too happy to test his finished recipes, assisting him to tweak the wording to make it as comprehensive as possible and what kind of explanatory notes would be most helpful and interesting. They had a lot of fun working things out.

“That’s fine,” she pressed a kiss against his cheek, “I’ve a date with Ari and the other guys later.”

“Playing _The Dark Star_?” Severus did not quite get, what she loved so much about those role-play-games-stuff, but she enjoyed it and it was time his goddaughter did not spent buried in books or training on the field.

James sat down on the chair that was essentially hers, playing around with her pocket knife, “Yeah. New campaign on a prison planet,” she shuffled a little, “Did you read the letter?”

He didn’t need to ask which she meant, it still sat on the mantelpiece, unopened, “No.”

“Why not?”

Severus looked at her. His goddaughter, who would cherish the opportunity to talk with her late mother again. How was he to explain her, that Eileen Snape’s unexpected letter only made him feel sick to his stomach?

“Was she mean to you?”

He looked at her, caught off guard by the tentative question, “Why would you think that?”

“You never speak of her and… in Mom’s photo book, you’ve got a black eye in one picture.”

_Merlin damn her perceptiveness_, Severus cursed silently, gritting his teeth. He was not even remotely ready to open _that_ particular can of worms and the how was an entirely different story.

“I… didn’t have the best relationship with my parents,” he replied somewhat delicately, “I care for my mother, but I have not spoken with her for quite some time.”

Not since the summer after his sixth Hogwarts’ year. Finally, he had been legally allowed to defend her and himself from his father’s drunken ravings, avenge them even. But Eileen had forbidden it, standing by her bastard of her husband like she always had. After his horrible fight with Lily the year prior, this act by his own mom, something he could only view as treason, had been the final straw that made his decision to join the Death Eaters.

His anger at her had cooled over the years (and recent therapy), what was left was a hollow feeling he could not quite put a name on.

James was still watching him avidly. Calling her look ‘dubious’, would not do it justice.

“Don’t concern yourself with conundrums that are mine to figure out, Corbillat.”

“Fair enough,” she smiled, obviously still curious, but her trust in him was unshaken as ever. The clock striking four further distracted her, “Damn, I’ll be late!”

James jumped up, gave Severus a good-bye-kiss and purposefully ignored his chiding, “Language!”

“I’ll be back for dinner!”

“Have fun,” he replied, watching his little whirlwind grabbing her bag and running off.

Severus let out a sigh, still not feeling like doing _this_, but he got up either way.

The envelope was crispy white paper, not parchment, the address written by biro instead of a quill… When he had gotten post from her during his schooldays, it had looked just like that.

With a small gesture of his wand he sliced it open, taking out a single page. He read it once, twice and then a third time. The words stayed the same, taunting him with their very existence.

Severus only realised he was pacing around his study when the paper audible crinkled in his balled fist.

Before he had consciously made the decision, he went to the kitchen and for the floo-powder. Flooing was only possible in the Hall of Travel, but calling worked just fine.

“Jurriaan, do you have a moment?”

In the back of his head, he marvelled how much he had changed. Two years ago, he would’ve rather bitten his tongue off than asking for advice. Or comfort.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I…” he faltered, not knowing how to voice his situation. Severus was on the verge off calling it off, when Jurriaan spoke instead, “I’ll be over in a moment.”

“Thank you.” He was grateful, currently for the fact that his friend preferred acting over talking.

As expected, there was a knock on the door not two minutes later.

“It’s open,” Severus called softly, already back to pacing.

Jurriaan looked a little dishevelled, in the way that made him look dashing, rather than scruff. But all the duellist seemed to care about was Severus. Guiltily he realised he had most likely interrupted Jurriaan’s own training routine.

“How bad is it and who do I need to throw into a river?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he murmured, but could not help a small smile creeping on his face.

Jurriaan watched him pacing another moment, eyebrows raised, “Okay, no more coffee for you. I’ll make tea - You might want to stop wearing the floor out.”

“Not really.”

He listened to Jurriaan rummaging in the kitchen, wondering since when the older man was so familiar in his home…

“Want to sit down?” The question pulled him out of his wheeling thoughts, looking over where Jurriaan stood with two steaming mugs.

“Not particularly,” he answered honestly, still not sure how to explain the figurative _train-wreck_ to him.

“I am worried,” Jurriaan stated softly.

“Sorry…”

Jurriaan started to make a dismissive gesture with his hand, almost spilling tea all over the floor, “Never mind me,” he muttered while placing the mugs on the table, “Tell me what’s wrong - or at least how I can help.”

Severus looked at him a long moment, old instincts remind him how trusting people would only get him hurt. He shoved that aside and the letter at Jurriaan, which took more effort than he was willing to admit, “Read it. Please.”

He didn’t ask why, merely smoothed out the abused piece of paper, noting how similar the handwriting looked to Severus’ neat script.

_My dear Severus,_

_I don’t even know how to start this letter. So much time has passed since I last saw You, since I last talked to You._

_There is so much I want to say. I love you. I miss you, terribly so._

_After our fight, you never replied to my letters anymore and I understand why. I was not the mother You deserved, that You needed and I am sorry, Severus._

_I am so very sorry. I am sorry that I was too weak to protect You._

_During the war, I didn’t want to endanger you with letters coming from me, but please believe me, there was not a day I did not think about you._

_You are a teacher at Sylvan Academy now and I could not be prouder of you. I have always been proud of you._

_I would really like to see you, please. Even if it’s just for a few minutes. Currently I am at the clinic at Cokeworth, receiving treatment. The physician is not confident that I’ll recover._

_Please, I want to see my son before I have to go._

_With love, hoping to see You soon,_

_Mom_

Jurriaan looked up at Severus, still doing his best to wear holes into the floor. _‘Hey, it’s mom, I am dying, let’s make up!’_-letters probably had that effect. Part of him had a hard time concentrating on Severus’ distress, rather than the giddy feeling of _‘He trusts me! He really does trust me!’._ Calling himself to order, he asked a question that had been on his mind for a whole while, “How bad was it?”

Severus knew very well what Jurriaan asked, “It…” he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “My father is a bastard. I had my share of bruises.” He hoped that would be enough.

“And your mother?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? What had she done, aside from not protecting him from Tobias drunken ravings? She had cared for him, taught him his first magic and how to brew…

“Severus?” Jurriaan asked softly, stepping to him, close enough so he could have hugged him, but just laid a hand on his lower arm.

The potions master didn’t reply just yet, still thinking about events long lost and gone. Easier times, but at this point of his life, he had stopped yearn for them like he used to…

“She was… not perfect. But I owe her at least a visit.”

“You owe her _shit_,” Jurriaan burst out with a ferocity that took Severus off guard, “She may be your mother, but that doesn’t give her any right to mistreat her child. Even if she was just an enabler for your father. You don’t owe her anything, Severus. If you want to see her, do it because you want to, not because you feel obligated to.”

With his rant finished, he fell silent, only realising then, how patronising he had sounded. He swallowed, his face growing hot with embarrassment.

Luckily for him, Severus was more amused, even a little touched by the protectiveness, than angry, “Is that so?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, not quite smiling.

“I meant… you were… Sorry… I just…” Jurriaan rambled of a little while longer before Severus let him of the hook with a snicker, “For a duellist you sure get flustered easily.”

He gave the hand on his arm a soft squeeze, still grinning.

The duellist in question mumbled something about _unbelievable_ and _never going to live this down_, face still red like an overripe tomato.

“Can you look after Jim? Just the coming weekend, while I -”

“Of course…” he hesitated a moment, before he added, “Whatever you need, _Ver_.”

Severus tried to look annoyed, “Don’t you dare to try and settle me with a silly nickname.”

There was no heat in his words, which worried Jurriaan more than he cared to admit.

“You don’t need to do this to yourself,” he pulled the older man a little closer, trying to emphasise his next words, “You do not need to do it alone.”

“…What do you propose?”

“I can go with you. - If you want me to. As back-up.”

His first instinct was to say no, but the longer he thought about it, the more he warmed to the idea, “I would like that, but the kids…”

“I am sure Charlotte will be thrilled to spent the weekend with them,” Jurriaan reasonably optimistic on that one. His sister was working too much lately anyway.

“… Fine.”

o ~ O ~ o

“It’s not your letter!”

_But I need to know what’s going on!_

“You want to know, dear. That’s a difference.”

She rolled her eyes at Tom’s reprimand. After coming back from game-night the letter from Sev’s mom had still set on the mantelpiece.

James was curious, yes, but even more worried. She didn’t want her godfather hurting, that was categorically not okay, not at all.

With unfeeling hands, she reached for the envelope, the boring whiteness making it as mundane as things could be.

Reading the address that _Eileen T. Snape_ had scribbled as her own, the paper crinkled in her hands.

_Wow, the letter locks bad… did she scrunch it into a ball before sending?_

“Your godfather might have while or after reading it.”

_True… that would mean he read it already._

“And you lost your argument for reading it,” he pointed out.

Mulling over that for another moment, she put the letter back, closed again, with a little regret, but mostly with the knowledge that she was doing the right thing. Even though _the right thing_ did not at all satisfy her burning curiosity.

“What are you doing, Corbillat?”

James flinched, even though Severus’ voice didn’t sound at all accusatory, “I am, well, err… you see…”

He raised an eyebrow at her, only now looking at the letter, “Jim,” he was not angry, but the distinctive tinge of disappointment made her stomach turn.

“You didn’t hide it!” She realised, how stupid that sounded, the moment the words came out of her mouth. “And I didn’t read it,” James added hurriedly. A Slytherin mindset if there ever was one, Severus thought in fond exasperation. At nearly eight years, James’ curiosity was stronger than ever and now it became apparent, that she had inherit less of Lily’s common sense, than he had initially hoped. Or maybe it was just out powered by a streak of recklessness coming from a certain second parent…

“… Did you read it?” she asked tentatively, when he didn’t react to her thin excuses.

“Yes, I did.” He signed a little, “I’ll visit her next Saturday.”

She frowned, making herself looking older than she was, “Alone? Can I not go with you?”

“Jurriaan is coming along - I thought you would be spending the day with Faramond, Isa and Charlotte.” More a statement than a question, but she is a child and the idea of her in the general vicinity of Tobias Snape made acid rise in his throat.

But James seemed content with the plan, smiling brightly at him, “Okay - Want to know about the campaign we played today?”

o ~ O ~ o

_16 April 1988_

_Samaritan Medical Centre_

_Cokeworth, England_

“How… rustic…?” Jurriaan tried his very best to be nice about it, but the thought of Severus growing up in the grim, run down city made him cringe. He had never been fond of the British Isles, but Cokeworth was a new low altogether. Everything was dirty, neglected and somewhere between ‘in dire need of repairs’ and ‘beyond salvageable’. The hospital - that didn’t deserve the title in his eyes - was no better.

“It’s a mess and I know it,” Severus replied with a strained smile. He had lived in Spinner’s end for quite some time, but had stopped setting foot into town proper long before his last fight with his mother. Fast steps carrying him to the reception desk, he addressed the clerk behind the clouded screen, after a brief moment of hesitation as he recognised her, “Good day. I am here to see Eileen Prince.”

The woman didn’t even look up from her magazine, “Only family is allowed to visit.”

Instantly he was ticked off at her dismissive tone, but reigned his temper in, “I am family,” he replied coldly.

That got the receptionists attention and her face morphed into a contempt grimace as she recognised him, “Look who is back in town, the ungrateful brat. Always thought you were too good for this place, didn’t you? Finally, here to look after your mom?”

Severus gritted his teeth, wondering if he would get away with cursing her.

“We just need her room number,” Jurriaan said smoothly, steel in his gaze, “Then we won’t occupy any more of your time, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?” She glared at Severus again, “My brother didn’t raise no fag! Who is that flash harry?”

“None of your business,” he replied, near fuming now, “The room, Edith. Or would you prefer that I talk to your superior?”

She glared, but reluctantly answered, “Ward 7. Ask for the room there.”

He didn’t say goodbye to her.

“So…” Jurriaan followed Severus towards the stairwell, not sure how to voice his thoughts.

“Yes, she is my aunt, if only by name,” the potions master explained without prompting, “And yes, she was always like that.”

His friend snorted, “I was going to ask if she was always such a bitch, but fair enough.”

The comment made Severus chuckle a little, at least until they passed the information board.

**\- Third floor: Ward 7 - Oncology –**

Cancer. Something Magic and Potions could not fix easily or fast. If at all.

_Damn_, he thought to himself. His mother had never been one to exaggerate, but he had still hoped for something less… hopeless.

It was a sombre climb to the floor. The head nurse of the wad greeted them with a sort of resolute kindness, that had him a little more at ease. After brief introductions she mentioned them to follow her, “Does she know you are coming, Mr. Snape?”

“No,” he had not answered her letter, feeling like he needed the possibility to just not go, “It was a spontaneous decision.”

That, on the other hand, was an outright lie. He had mulled over what to do and say the past six days.

“Very well,” she stopped in front of a white door with a little tag: Room 11 - Snape, E., “Your father is not here at the moment. Visiting hours are until twelve - And don’t get her worked up! She needs to rest.”

With that she left, presumably for the nurse’s room, leaving them alone.

“I’ll be here, if you need me,” Jurriaan murmured lowly, giving his shoulder a light squeeze and took a step back.

Severus took a deep breath and knocked.

“Come in.”

Inside the room was unpersonal and sterile, as expected from a hospital. His mother looked small in the white-sheeted bed.

She had always been a lean, tall woman, but now her arms seemed frail and her delicate, noble face was aged and gaunt. Eileen didn’t turn her face fully to him, instead looking out of the lonely window. She had probably expected a nurse, because she asked, “Do you want to take my blood-pressure? Or draw off more blood? It is not that I need it.” Her voice was tiered, but her sarcasm biting, making her son smirk ever so slightly.

“Potions based on human blood are illegal, but since you are offering…”

“Severus!”

Eileen was not smiling; she was positively beaming at him. She moved to sit up and he didn’t miss the pain flickering in her eyes before she could hide it.

“Join me?” she asked tentatively, patting the spot on the comforter next to her, “Please?”

Slowly he moved from his spot by the door, but opted to pull a chair close to her instead of sitting on the bed.

If that bothered his mother, she didn’t let it show, “I am so happy that you came! Let me take a look at you! How much you have changed…”

Severus knew the last part to be true. The war had left its traces, some scars and his arm, but the years at Sylvan had done him plenty good. He was no longer deathly pale - even the Van Kirks with their vampire genes got tanned under the harsh sun of New Zealand. His hair was well-groomed and long, tied back into a low ponytail. And a little bit of general self-care did the rest. He did not at all resemble the neglected looking teenager with yellow teeth, oily hair and outright hostile attitude.

Eileen noticed that as well and tears welled up in her black eyes. Not ones of sadness, but elation mixed with deep regret. Seeing her son had flourished away from them, away from _her_, made her incredible proud. And at the same time, it broke her heart.

Her son allowed her to keep a death-grip on his arm as she cried and cried.

“I am sorry, Sevi!” she finally forced out, “I am so sorry!”

He didn’t reply, merely waited until she had pulled herself together, thinking about what to say. Finally, she the tears away with the back of her hand, looking at him with red-trimmed, pleading eyes.

“I know,” the next words were out before he could stop them, “But you didn’t do anything, but being sorry.”

His mother looked like he had back-handed him - and he was painfully familiar with her face expression after a strike, “Sevi…”

But she didn’t deny it, it was more truth than lie. Eileen had tried to protect her son from Tobias’ ravings, but not once had she used her magic, when she had every right to do so in self-defence. She had not left him.

“Mother… mom” the word sounded foreign on his tongue, “I didn’t come to reproach you for the past, truly not. But he will never be part of my life again. If you want to… reconnect with me, you need to understand that.”

“He is your father.”

“In name only,” Severus removed his hand from her grasp, “I am done with him. I don’t hate him anymore, that would be a waste of my energy, but I am happy to never see him again in my life.”

Eileen signed, sounding bone-weary and tiered, “I see…”

He stood, unable to sit idly anymore, and went to the end of her bed, for her patience chart, “May I?”

“Of course,” she allowed him with a week gesture of her hand, laying down again, obviously exhausted.

Severus had a basic understand of medical matters by trade and a lot more due to his work with Charlotte at the Sylvan clinic. As he now read his mother’s doctor’s reports and lab results, one thought in particular struck him, “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

“Language!”

“Not right now!” he shot back, “You have gastric cancer! Why in Merlin’s trice damned name are you not at Saint Mungo’s?”

She shuffled, playing with the cuff of her nightgown, “That wouldn’t make a difference…”

His eyebrows raised almost on their own accord, “I don’t know, _mother dear_, would you call it a difference if you are healed instead of merely treated?”

“Your father -”

As if summoned by these words, the door was slammed open by Tobias Snape himself.

Severus watched the huge form waltzing into the room, which suddenly seemed much smaller than before and waited for the familiar fear crawl up his spine. It never did. There was unease and annoyance, but to fear.

His father was not as intimidating as he once had been, still broader than him, but distinctively shorter. Compared to other dangers he had faced since he left home, Tobias was on the lower range of the scale. If he even deserved a spot on it.

**“What are you doing here?!”**

“Visiting my mother,” Severus answered levelly - more levelly than had he not seen Jurriaan slip into the room. He was by his side in an instant and glaring at Tobias so menacingly that the old man took a step back.

“Who are you?!”

“Jurriaan Van Kirk,” he seemed equally unimpressed, “I would say it’s a pleasure, but it’s certainly not.”

Severus suppressed a chuckle, not wanting to escalate the situation - any more at least, “A friend and colleague of mine.”

The watery eyes filled with contempt, “What do you little bastard think, talking like that?! With me!”

He turned to his mother again, ignoring the raging behind him, part of him wondering, what outrageously disrespectful thing he had even said, “If you want, I’ll take you to Saint Mungo’s now. Or you can stay here.”

Eileen was pale and shaky, looking between her son and her furious husband, kept in check by Jurriaan playing demonstratively with his wand, “Sevi…”

“The doctors here can help her far better, you ignorant little brat!”

“A province-hospital with no specialists?” Severus asked back, thoroughly annoyed, “Don’t make me laugh!”

“You…” Tobias tried to move around Jurriaan, violent intent radiating from him, but the duellist easily sidestepped him, “I advise you, to not make me incapacitate you, Mr. Snape. Especially since I would love to do it.”

“It’s your choice, Mom. Do you want to stay here and fade away? Or get some real help?”

“Don’t you dare, Eileen! You will not go to those quacks!”

Her eyes were wide and fearful. Then she nodded once.

o ~ O ~ o

Things went rather smoothly after the decision was made (aside from a stunned Tobias Snape in the corner of a hospital room).

Severus went to the magical clinic to organise proper transport for his mother and it was not yet evening when she was set up in a small, but cosy room, already diagnosed and a treatment plan set up.

The head healer appeared capable by the way she informed mother and son about the situation and her plans to help her. She was concerned, since Eileen was in late stage of the disease and treatment was most successful, the earlier it was started.

“We need to see how things go, Mrs Snape,” she told her, not unkindly, “But we will do everything to help you.”

She was still shaken by the events of the day, but the first potions already started to take effect, bringing colour back to her face and easing her pain.

“Sevi…” She started to speak when he readied himself to leave, “Will you visit me again? Sometime? I… would love to get to know my son.”

After a moment of thinking, he gave her a small smile, “That can be arranges. Mom.”

Jurriaan waited outside the door, patient like he had been all day, “Ready?”

The potions master looked at him, blond hair in controlled disarray and violet eyes warm, before he surprised himself as he gave his cheek a quick kiss, “Let’s go home.”

“Sure,” Jurriaan muttered, blushing a little and looking at his friend with fondness and then moved to link their arms as they left.

If Severus was happier than flustered about that, it was his own damn business.

o ~ O ~ o

_18 April 1988 _

_Ward for internal diseases and removal of foreign body_

_St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries_

_London, England_

“- then Professor Calder told us about the Guilt of Magic-Hunters and the battle of Saragossa in 1691, that compelled Spain to help establish the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. I didn’t know what “Magic-hunters” were supposed to be, but before I could ask the others asked, if they were really real!” James held onto her godfather’s hand, almost skipping as she followed him through the labyrinth of corridors. And talked nineteen to the dozen, sharing what she had learnt in the last week of term. History appeared to be a new favourite and Severus was happy to listen to her enthusiastic rambling.

“All the parents told them the Magic-hunters would come and take them away or eat them, if they didn’t hide their magic outside the house! And they didn’t know they exist! - Well, existed. Professor Calder says they were finally defeated during World War one.”

Severus too, had been told off the magical words’ boogieman. Not a goblin, gnome or other creature, but a dangerous man hunting little wizards and witches. A tale for adults to scare their children into behaving. For James, who grew up without such methods of education, it was just another engaging thing to learn about, “Jurriaan told me, they originated from the Spanish… Inquision?”

“_Inquisition_,” he corrected with a smile.

She nodded sombrely, committing the word to memory, “He knows all kinds of stories about them! Did you know he is reaaaally good at story telling?”

“No,” Severus answered, smile widening. He was pleased how well his goddaughter got along with Jurriaan, how much she liked him. “But I can imagine him doing well at it,” he added and stopped in front of Eileen’s room, “Ready?”

James had begged her godfather to take her with him the next time he visit his mother. He had really put his foot down and they had found a compromise: She accompanied him.

He had many talents, but denying his goddaughter something was not one of them.

“Ready!”

Severus allowed her to knock and open the door, despite being unsure about James meeting his mother.

“There you are! - Oh,” Eileen looked at the young girl at her son’s side, “And who might you be?”

She could not help but wonder for a moment, seeing the black hair and eyes shining with intelligence, if she had become a grandmother.

James observed her in turn, seeing the resemblance between her and Severus. The sharp cut face and the same pitch-black hair and eyes... But while she knew her godfather to be strong, his mother appeared broken in a way she could not quite grasp. Her magic seemed to flicker and coil around itself like a hurt creature.

“I am James - But you can call me Jim. Everyone does.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Jim,” she smiled at the little girl as she came closer, “I am Eileen.” Then she looked at her son, questioning.

“Jim is my goddaughter,” he explained, “She wanted to meet you.”

Severus had expected a lot of awkward silence between himself and his mother, but James had no qualms about question Eileen on everything and nothing. It made the chat easier and Eileen was delighted to spend time with his goddaughter.

Maybe, just maybe, he allowed himself to wonder, she could be… _something_ to James. Not a grandmother, but… A knock interrupted his musings and all three turned, expecting a healer. But…

“Father,” Eileen greeted the tall man, not surprised, but not happy either.

James was very interested now. The old man looked a lot like Severus, even more so than his mom, aside from the grey in his hair. And she didn’t know that his grandpa was still alive, but Sev seemed as surprised as her.

“Eileen,” Trajan Prince greeted her, formal and stiff and his gaze travelled over James and then his grandson, “Hopefully, I am not interrupting.”

It didn’t sound like an actual question, more like a ‘You better not disrespect me’ and James did not at all like it.

“What if I say you do?”

Severus almost choke out a laugh, certain that nobody had ever been this sassy towards Lord Prince. Indeed, said Lord didn’t seem to know how to reply for a moment, but then a smile curled his thin lips, “I would humbly ask for your forgiveness for my intrusion, Lady Potter.”

James still didn’t like use of her title, but his words sounded genuine to her, so she smiled.

Her godfather was not as easily swayed, wondering what the old Lord wanted. Not a second would he believe, that it was a coincidence, Trajan visiting Eileen when he was here as well. Quite some time ago Narcissa had relayed to Severus, that his grandfather wanted to meet him. Most curious.

After Trajan introduced himself formerly to James, there was some painfully stiff Smalltalk, until Lord Prince decided to get to the point.

With a sharp look at Severus, he started, “It is actually rather convenient to meet you here by chance, grandson. I have wished to talk with you some time now.”

“And what about?” he was not inclined to play nice with the man who had disowned his mother.

“Matters of importance - How about we get a cup of tea at the… cafeteria?”

Something pressing enough to make Lord Prince shallow his pride and behave like a ‘commoner’ was probably worth listening to. If nothing else, it might be amusing.

“Lead the way - Mom, we’ll see you again later?”

“It’s alright,” Eileen seemed somehow pleased, “I’ll be here.”

Soon after, they were set up at a table right in a remote corner of the lively clinic cafeteria. Severus had not been comfortable with leaving James in the care of the healers or even his mother, he had actually planned to send her home via floo, but she had other ideas.

“Jim, I can’t even guess what Trajan wants yet. You are in the best keeping at home.”

She had looked up at him with worried eyes, “But you are here. And I don’t want you to be alone!”

In the end, he had allowed her to come with them, now James was colouring in some pictures and had a cup of hot chocolate.

“Muffliato,” Severus casted the spell around Trajan and himself, so his goddaughter wouldn’t hear a word of it, despite sitting right next to him, “What is it that you wanted to discuss?”

The older man took a sip of his tea, grimaced and pushed the cup away, “In short, matters of the family.”

Severus raised an eyebrow at that, since he didn’t consider himself part of the Prince-family, but let Trajan continue.

“My oldest son Aurelius died years ago, during a Death Eater attack. And my youngest Veniamin… he chooses the wrong friends. He was serving a short sentence at Azkaban, but during the break-out in ‘86… he was killed.”

“… I am sorry for your loss,” it was more of a question then anything else with Severus not at all comfortable giving condolences. But whatever misgivings the old man had, he was mourning for his sons, his grandson was sure of it, because Trajan desperately tried to hide it.

“Thank you…”

He watched James painting for a little while, how concentrated she worked on the feathers of the phoenix, switching between red, orange and yellow.

“A pretty little girl. But you should watch that obstinate tendencies.”

Severus glared at him, “I will not be taking parenting advise from you of all people.”

“I deserve that, don’t I?” Trajan signed and stroke his salt-and-pepper beard, “I never should have abandoned my own daughter. I drove her into the arms of that brute!”

“Took you long enough,” Severus drawled, not at all intending to pity the other.

Trajan shoot a very similar glare back, “A tad more respect would be advisable, young man.”

“Or what, you’ll disown me?” His mother had no rights to her heritage anymore and, by extension, neither had he.

His grandfather suddenly looked exhausted, “I needed years to realise it, I give you that, but I do not want to lose my daughter for good. Or see my house go instinct…” He signed again, “That being established, disowning you is the last thing on my mind.”

At that Severus froze, realising what all off this was about. Trajan was widowed and had no heirs, while it was theoretically possible for him to father a child at his age, it was highly unlikely. Eileen was all he had left.

“I don’t want your title!”

Trajan grimaced, he had obviously anticipated for a different reaction, “I can’t force you, but I had hoped, you would consider the benefits off it.”

“There are no benefits,” Severus shoot back without even thinking. He was just rid of the shackles called ‘Dark Lord’ and ‘Dumbledore’, he had no intentions to take a new one just because it was golden.

“Hear me out, Severus. Please.”

He folded his arms, still glaring, but nodded at Trajan to continue.

“I would do more than take you into the family, but name you my heir apparent. With every right and next to now of the duties as I plan to life a long life - It also means financial independence to provide for James.”

“I can manage very well without your money.”

Trajan nodded, “You do very well for your age, that’s true. But it is not the same thing as independence. That being said… I am very aware of a certain law Albus Dumbledore wants to push through the Wizengamot.”

Severus instantly knew what he talked about. Dumbledore wanted his goddaughter in his sphere of influence again and for this purpose, he tried to take custody of her. The law Trajan talked about, was meant to weaken the rights and privileges of godparents. Of him.

It was a problem he and Narcissa had yet to solve.

His eyes narrowed at the older man, “What about it?” “James Potter is the Lady of an ancient and most noble house. Not just anyone can adopt her, otherwise, I am positive you would’ve already done it. But the heir apparent of the noble House of Prince would be a whole new matter entirely.”

Lord Trajan almost saw the gears turning in his grandson’s head. His tactic was underhanded, even for Slytherin-standards, but the consequences of failing were to dire in his eyes.

“You will name me hair apparent before taking me back into the family.”

“Yes.”

“You will provide for my mother, even if she stays with him. And pay her medical bills.”

“Of course.”

“You will not be involved in Jim’s life just because she is my goddaughter and you my grandfather. Not before I don’t trust you.”

“Understood.”

“… You will not contest the adoption.”

Trajan’s eyes went the slightest bit softer at the last demand, “You have my word on it. On everything, if you want to.”

Severus looked at James, still content with her activity. The thought of losing her…

“I will think about it,” Severus allowed. Meaning he would talk this over with Narcissa. And Corbillat.

Lord Prince smiled, “Of course. I don’t ask for anything more.”


	15. Life is the dancer and you are the dance.

_Morning_

_20.04.1988_

_Flat 11, Alisanus Gardens, Sylvan Academy_

_Steward Island, New Zealand_

Mornings were rather peaceful in the Snape-Potter-household. Severus preferred his coffee with a good dose of silence and when she had no classes James loved sleeping in as much as the next kid. On break, they rarely had breakfast before ten.

Ceely, the houseelf formerly belonging to Euphemia Potter, had adjusted to that quickly. She loved to spoil James and had initially been upset, when Severus made his goddaughter do some light housework from time to time. Nothing more than helping washing up cauldrons, setting the table or cleaning up after painting. Until he explained to her why, then she had understood the necessity of it. It was a wordless agreement between potions master and houseelf, that James Jr. would not grow up to be as spoiled and entitled as her father had been during his teens.

Major part of cleaning the flat and cooking meals was Ceely’s work now, as she insisted. Neither Severus nor his goddaughter were comfortable with letting her do everything. But the lovely houseelf would straight up pass out when her lady dared to use the ‘f-word’. For now, they tried to ease Ceely into as much freedom as possible, which was a foul compromise, but it had to do for now.

James was still munching on her last bits of breakfast when Severus started speaking.

He had decided today was as good as any to talk with her.

After Lord Prince had proposed to take him into the family, his first floo-call back home had been to Narcissa. Not only was she a trusted friend, but also incredible knowledgeable in both politics and the law.

The two had discussed several possibilities, shed light on it from any perspective they could think off and she had buried herself in scrolls of obscure laws for the whole past day, but now the verdict was clear: Sound course of action.

He would agree, if - and only if - James wanted to be adopted. It was the sole reason he had started contemplating the offer. Dumbledore might think about some shenanigans concerning custody of her, but as Severus’ legal daughter, she would be safe from him and his meddling.

He was dreadfully nervous about this conversation and he couldn’t even pinpoint _why_. Or maybe the list of reasons was just too excessive in length to be comprehensible anymore.

Holding onto what had to be his fifth cup of coffee and started, “Any plans for today?”

“Don’t know yet,” she shrugged, “Riley’s cat threw kittens and I might to go over to play with them. She says they are very cute. - Or maybe I’ll do something Faramond.”

“Good ideas,” he said and hoped, she wouldn’t want to keep one of the kittens. There were so much nicer pets than those scratch-happy little demons.

“I actually wanted to talk something over with you.”

James sat up straighter, watching him avidly, “About what Lord Prince said to you when we visited your mom?”

_Clever girl_, Severus thought with a proud smile, “Yes and no,” he answered honestly. He gave her an abridged version of the events two days ago and what it meant for the problem called ‘Dumbledore’. James knew about the scheming of the headmaster; she had eavesdropped while he had planned with the Longbottoms once. She trusted her godfather and Narcissa to keep her save.

“Which leads me to my questions: Would… would you want me to adopt you?”

She stared at him with wide eyes, mouth half open.

Severus couldn’t tell if it was a good or a bad reaction, “Corbillat? You don’t have to -”

“Do you want to?” she asked, before he could even think about rambling, “Adopt me. I mean… not just because of Dumbledore?”

He stood up to knell in front of her, “You are my goddaughter. I will always love and protect you, come hell or high water. I cannot ever replace your parents, but I would love nothing more than to adopt you.”

In the next moment, he landed in a sitting position on the floor, as James jumped at him to throw her arms around his neck, squealing with delight.

“I take that as your complete and absolute agreement?” He asked laughing as he hugged her back.

“Yes! - …Sev?”

“Yes, Corbillat?”

“Does that mean, I can call you ‘dad’?” It was an awfully sweet, timid question, she asked against black robes and it pierced his heart.

_You deserve so much more, so much better than me…_

Those thoughts had been a steady companion since the Potters’ funeral, less so lately, but occasionally they resurfaced again, claws as sharp as ever.

_“You have both lost a lot, but you are still here, still alive and you have each other,”_ Lord Thannor had told him about a year ago, _“That is what matters.”_

“If you would like to,” he answered weakly, voice almost breaking.

“I would… but do you think dad would mind?”

Severus pondered, as well because his goddaughter deserved to know that he thought about the question seriously, “No. He and your mom loved you above anything. If it makes you happy, they would not mind you doing it.”

“Then it’s fine…”

_Maybe it is enough. Maybe I can be enough. _

“I love you, Corbillat.”

“Love you, too, Sev. Dad.”

o ~ O ~ o

_25.04.1988_

_Tomb of the Potter-family, northeast section of Old Skyreach Graveyard _

_Cardiff, Wales_

James went to see her parents’ grave once a year, always on Samhain. To tell them about all the things, big or small, happening in her life. And to bring flowers.

Today was the first anniversary of her grandmother’s death. She was on her way to visit the crypt of their family.

After all, who else was there to do it? The entrance was sealed for everyone not of their blood, until… another member was being put to rest.

It was early morning - an hour or two past midnight London time - since James didn’t think it would make a difference if she came here by day or night. Severus was accompanying her, his wand lighting the way, his large hand around hers giving her security.

The graveyard seemed rather enchanting in the moonlight, not as dreadful as on the day of the funeral. More… _magical_, with the plants ranking around the oldest gravestones… something caught her eyes as they passed another line of stones, that were close to crumbling under their own weight, “Sev, is that moonshine-vine?”

He stopped to look over, where she pointed towards the ever so slightly blue glowing creepers ranking around a statue.

“It appears to be,” he smiled at her, “Want to take a look later?”

James nodded, happy that she had something to look forward to. As they went a little further, she held tighter onto her bouquet of flowers. Bleeding hearts had been her grandma’s favourite. 

Upon the entrance, Severus hesitated to let go of her, “Will you be alright?”

“Yes,” she smiled and raised her free hand, “_Cicindelae!_”

Magic sparked in her palm and seven little balls of bluish light flew up to hover around her, “I’ll be peachy!”

Severus mustered her, this eight-year-old, who regarded wandless magic as a matter of course. In the glow of conjured lights, she smiled proudly up at him.

“Very well, Corbillat,” he told her, “Be careful not to trip.”

“I have been walking for some years now, Dad. Don’t worry,” with that, she turned to the wrought-iron gate. They swung open, allowing her entrance into the darkness.

Her godfather meanwhile, was still grinning like the proverbial idiot. As he did every time James called him ‘dad’ and he suspected it would be this way for quite a while. Severus didn’t mind in the slightest.

Despite her cheekiness, said goddaughter was careful descending on the old steps. Tom had no qualms about giving her vivid descriptions of scrapped skin and broken bones, should the old stone under her heel crumble at just the wrong moment.

“Did you ever break something? When you still had a body?”

She skipped down the last three steps, much to his dismay, and waited for his answer.

“I _think_ so,” he shrugged, “But I cannot remember an actual event.”

Tom’s memories were still more gone than present, aside from a few newly re-discovered snippets he had shared with James, there was nothing left of his… ‘old’ life. Most of the time, he was happy not to dwell on it.

But he kept talking, explaining her a spell to repair a broken bone, knowing she appreciated the little comfort his voice gave her. If filling the silence in the tomb with his chatter was what she needed, he would talk nineteen to the dozen

James didn’t like the place. It seemed cramped and somehow too small, even though it was bigger than the flat back at Sylvan. Being underground unnerved her, she realised. And all the dead people did not help!

Thankfully, Lady Euphemia’s grave was easily found and not too far into the mausoleum. All gravestones were kept pristine by old magic surrounding the place, but hers was the one with the thinnest layer of dust.

“Do you think I should clean this place?” James gave a big blow and subsequently sneezed at the cloud of dusk.

“You could ask Ceely to do it,” Tom suggested. He did not fancy staying more time than necessary either.

She didn’t like the idea of ordering her around, but did not want to clean this place herself, not at all.

“I’ll ask her,” she allowed, trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of her head, saying that Ceely would never refuse a request from her.

Placing the flowers on the stone, she wondered what she could say… Which was not much at all. She had not known her grandmother well - and part of her was still angry with her.

“I am happy,” she said finally, “and save… I wonder how you are. If you meet grandfather again. And my parents…” Her voice trailed off and she stared on the inscription for a while.

In theory, this had been a far better idea, she mused.

Meanwhile, Tom had taken to wandering, not too far in case James needed him, but enough to give her privacy. Reading obituaries sat in stone was as good of a pastime as he too would get down here.

The Potter’s apparently set no order in their own tomb, or at least none he could make sense off. A young mother from the 1700s was laid to rest next to her grand-grand-grandson. Next to a wizard who reached the ripe age of 184 was the grave of a stillborn boy and -

He froze and looked back to the last date.

***31.07.1980 - †31.07.1980**

He had not misread after all. That was James’ birthday.

The name to go with it was ‘Harry Fleamont Potter’…

Tom so wished he had not seen it; he didn’t want to think about the implications of that gravestone! He turned abruptly, and returned to James’ side, not keen on digging up her family’s dirty laundry. Or any of their laundry!

With the resolution in mind to never mention anything of his thoughts on the tomb to James, he joined her silent vigil.

His friend was still starring at the gravestone as if she wanted to burn a hole in it.

Not wanting to intrude, he did the same and tried to dissect the coat of arms on Lady Potter’s grave.

The centrepiece were a wand and broadsword crossed, a nod to the family’s involvement in several wars. On the left side was a cauldron with a ladle, in honour of the first of the family, Linfred of Stinchcombe. To the right was a lion, added when Leonida Gryffindor married into the family. Then, under the wand and sword, a scroll, probably a symbol for wisdom.

All in all, there was nothing unusual about the coat of arms. It showed part of the family’s history, what they were proud of… He squinted, giving the lower part of the crest a hard stare.

“What are you doing?” James asked slightly bewildered when her friend leaned further and further forward to inspect her grandmother’s tombstone.

“There is a rune. On the wax seal of the scroll.”

“What?” Now she also took a closer look, seeing he was right. And she knew why it had Tom spellbound.

The small rune, shaped like a tilted, sharp-edged ‘S’ was unsettling familiar.

“Tom, does it look like my scar?” She was sure, but had only ever seen it in the mirror. Even as she spoke, her hand went to her face, feeling the scar hiding behind her bangs.

“Yes. What a strange coincidence.”

Both children were too jaded to still believe in the concept of coincidence, but James didn’t feel like pointing that out. She had other thoughts on her mind, “What does it mean?”

She looked at Tom, a little scared of what he might say next.

“That is _Eihwaz_, the yew tree. It stands for strength, wisdom, perseverance…” he hesitated. There was a certain meaning to it, that was both fitting and unsettling.

“That bad?” his friend asked lowly.

“No, just… It stands the connection between earth and air. And life and death.”

It would make sense for the symbol the be on a gravestone, not on a family crest. But why had Voldemort left that _on her_?

“Maybe it’s just an addition Lady Potter wanted?”

James shook her head at the suggestion, pulling out her golden pocket-watch to show him. The rune was there as well.

They looked at each other, silently agreeing to leave this unsettling place and talk about it when they were in the sunshine again.

As they left the damp duskiness, both were grateful, that the plans for the day would keep them occupied.

o ~ O ~ o

“Come on, Jim! We are going to be late!” Faramond was running cycles around Jurriaan, “We can’t miss our first game!”

“Yes, yes! I am here!” James came rushing down the stairs, hair still falling free and also thrilled beyond words.

Sylvan Academy was hosting the semi-final of the Oceania championship that evening, Australia vs. Cook Islands, so the excitement was expected.

Severus smiled as he braided James hair, happy that her morose mood after the graveyard visit was forgotten. Anything that made her this happy had his approval, even if it was watching a certain, neck-breaking pastime.

“Do you think we can get autograph? I want one from the whole team! And -”

“Calm down, sport!” Jurriaan laughed, tousling Faramond’s hair, “I am sure you will have lots of fun. - And that you will behave yourselves!” he added, tone unusually strict.

“Yes, Sir!” James and Faramond replied as one and Isa nodded enthusiastically. 

The tickets for the game had been hot-selling from the moment of announcement, that was why Severus and Jurriaan had opted not to go. The big Quidditch-geek of the family (Charlotte) had happily agreed to take the little Quidditch-geeks, namely Faramond, Isa and James. Isa was still a little young, but it had been a wish for her sixth birthday that was just around the corner to see the game.

She was jumping up and down on her aunt’s hand, her neck and half her face wrapped in a fan-scarf of the Australian team.

Charlotte’s boyfriend, Rowan, was also there. Even confronted with the three hyped up children that would be partly his responsibility for the evening, he seemed relaxed.

“If it’s not too late when the game is up, we can try to get some autographs, right, Lottie?”

There was a snicker from Jurriaan at his sister’s nickname and she gave him a half-hearted smack while answering, “Of course. I can’t very well reconcile it with my conscience to make you lose out on the chance to fan-girl over team-captain Turner now, can I?”

He merely grinned at her, almost from ear to ear, “You understand me!”

“Do you have the picture you want to have signed?” Severus asked his goddaughter, tying up her braid.

“Yes, dad!” She was bouncing again and still managed to pull the poster out of her bag. Varsha Khan was the seeker for Australia and held a high spot on James’ personal list of most amazing players.

“Very well,” he muttered, smiling even wider than Rowan had moments before and gave her hair a quick kiss, “Stay safe, will you.”

“Of course!”

“On that note,” Charlotte announced loudly, “We need to leave! - Fledglings, follow me. Mother hens, I shall bring the offspring back in one piece, so do something productive with your free evening, will you?”

She dodged the pillows thrown at her and was still laughing while ushering her charges outside.

The door closed behind them with a soft thud and silence settled.

Not uncomfortable silence, but a peaceful one that didn’t need to be filled chatter right away. They both leaned back against the counter, not touching, but with little enough space between them that a reaching hand would’ve easily bridged it.

Jurriaan watched Severus out of the corner of his eyes, smiling to himself. His black hair was pulled up into a messy half-bun, a tell-tale signed that he had been working on something or another in his lab. His long fingers idly traced non-existent patterns on the wood of the counter.

The other man sensed his gaze and looked at him with his trademark raised eyebrow.

“You light up like a Yule-log when Jim calls you ‘dad’,” he explained, “I like that look on you.”

Severus smiled right back, a warm and happy smile that made him look like twenty. And, in Jurriaan’s eyes, even more handsome.

“Keep looking at me like that and I will have no choice but to kiss you,” he tried for a teasing tone and missed it by about half a mile.

Now the silence was distinctively less comfortable.

The duellist was biting his tongue, not sure how this conversation would go, but that he really should have gone for a better opening line. Any other opening line!

“You -” Severus didn’t make it any further. Jurriaan’s nerves, sturdy during fights they may be, were apparently not designed for this kind of stress.

“Oh, screw this!” he pushed away from the counter, so they saw eye to eye, “I l- like you! I want to spent my time with you! I want to be the one you dump your problems and worries on! I… I want you in my life.”

“I -”

Jurriaan’s eyes narrowed, not sure what Severus was about to say, but he half-expected some self-derogatory stuff.

“I have to tell you something and I ask you to wait until I am finished,” he spoke solemnly, far more unsure than he had felt in ages, “You are an amazing person. You thrive to be better than you were once and I admire you for that. I like it how you throw your strictness out of the window the second Jim is making puppy dog eyes at you. I like how passionate you are about your art of brewing and how awestruck you can make your students about it!”

“Are you finished?” Severus asked levelly.

“I think so, why -”

He let out a startled gasp when Severus kissed him. It was the one thing he had expected least but had hoped for the most. He had just begun to kiss back when it was over as suddenly as it had started.

“… What just happened?” Jurriaan asked, voice a little hoarser than he would’ve liked.

“I kissed you,” the younger man answered, in a tone that he might have used to explain the obvious to one of his slower students.

“Really?” was about all he managed.

Severus just rolled his eyes, a fond smile playing on his lips, “Yes. And as I was about to say, Jurriaan: You really had to pick the cheesiest pick-up-line.”

The older man blushed a little, but his grin was reaching almost from ear to ear, “And what else did I interrupt so rudely?”

“I… like having you around,” Severus answered, starring at a spot a bit over Jurriaan’s shoulder, “As more than a friend.”

The duellist knew it took Severus quite a lot to say those words out load and was all the happier to hear them.

His hands went to undo the ribbon holding Severus’ hair in place, fingers tangling in black, silky strands, “As the heavy, emotional stuff is out of the way… I really, really want to kiss you again.”

The younger man chuckled, “Alas, I will have to endure -”

Jurriaan cut his wisecracking short with another kiss. Severus didn’t complain.

o ~ O ~ o

_29 April 1988_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

_Scotland _

Albus Dumbledore’s frown deepened with every further line he read in the Daily Prophet.

The article hadn’t made it to the front-page, but onto the first side of the ‘politics and society’.

**Lord Trajan Prince names grandson his heir apparent!**

This development was both worrying and unexpected. Dumbledore hated nothing more than ‘unexpected’.

Was it too much to ask for, that bigoted Lords would at least stand by their warped views of the world? And _not_ giving their half-blood descendant’s a title and political power?

He signed deeply, knowing what would be Severus next step. He would adopt Rose and then all his plans would be for nought. He would - no, _could_ not allow that to happened. The girl had already spent too much time under Severus and Lady Malfoy’s guidance.

Crawling his beard, he mulled over the possibilities. His continence-plan needed to go in motion immediately.

Access to the child was the critical part. At Sylvan Academy, there was no taking her, the wards would prevent any and all attempts in a quite barbaric fashion. Sucking on a lemon-drop, he mused the day of the adoption would be ideal. That meant either the Ministry of Magic or Gringotts… Yes, that had potential. A single trusted member of the Order of the phoenix, properly disguised and waiting for his signal. Simple, yet elegant.

The old man stood and went to a certain casket. He opened the lid, eyes glittering as he observed the strange shine of the legendary ‘Cloak of Invisibility’. James had never known what a priceless treasure his family had possessed, but now it would be used to take his daughter to a better place to grow up. Surely, the late boy would approve.

Dumbledore had already several ideas to secure Rose’ cooperation, though he hoped it would not come to it. Memory-charms were not healthy for a child’s mind, but in this case, it might be necessary.

He strolled back to his desk, popping another sweet in his mouth.

The laws concerning children were _fuzzy_ at best in wizarding Great Britain. As long as his involvement in Roslyn’s relocation couldn’t be proved, he was in the clear. Of course, Severus and Narcissa would throw a fit, but that wouldn’t help them.

“Yes,” he muttered to himself, “It is, after all, for the greater good.”

First, he needed to find out the planned date for the adoption…

o ~ O ~ o

_29 April 1988_

_Flat 11, Alisanus Gardens, Sylvan Academy_

_Steward Island, New Zealand_

James started the day by throwing out almost every article of black clothing that she owned, a few greys and very dark blues followed for good measure. Her Sylvan cloak was the only piece left. Satisfied she looked at the large pile. Ceely could later bring them to goodwill or something. Better yet, give it to a second-hand-store!

But now the armoury was distinctively empty. She picked out her slightly over-sized, violet Queen-shirt. She had missed wearing it, but that had to wait a little longer.

Narcissa would collect her later for the weekend and a shopping trip, splashing on clothes, as she liked to say. And she had promised James a surprise and to dress to go out when she came to take her.

Her aunt had decided to stop wearing black along with her and James it found utterly exiting, since she could barely remember a time when she had worn something else. Polished, upper-class black, but all black non the less.

Draco was equally relived that he wouldn’t be dragged along for shopping and exited to spent a whole weekend with his godfather again. James did feel a little guilty, very aware that she monopolised every bit of Severus time that his profession didn’t take up. Or his boyfriend.

Her face scrunched a little at the thought. She liked Jurriaan, he was her favourite teacher, Faramond was a great friend and Isa an adorable little nuisance. Still she didn’t at all like the thought of sharing Severus with them, not one bit.

“It’s normal to be jealous… I guess?” Tom was out of his depths with those topics.

“Bh I shud be habby foa ‘im!”

“Try again without a toothbrush in your mouth, dear?” he suggested dryly, trying not to laugh at her annoyed face.

“But I should be happy for him,” she repeated, drying off with a towel, “He is. Sev is beaming every time Jurriaan is around…”

She folded her arms and voiced the one fear haunting her since she had seen the two kissing a few days ago, “I am calling him ‘dad’, but he is not my father.”

A nasty whisper in the back of her head kept saying how easy she could be replayed by a real daughter, a real child. The thought was more terrifying than her occasional nightmares.

“Dear, I have no real stock in this matter,” Tom replied, honest as he would only be with her, “If I ever had a dad, I don’t remember him. But Severus is your godfather, he cared for you since you were born, has taken you in and raises you. I doubt anyone could change that. I don’t think he would ever want to change that.”

“… Thank you.”

“Anytime, dearest - Now, don’t you have an appointment?”

“Yep! New clothes!” she almost skipped down the stairs, already smelling a delicious breakfast.

“Please don’t make us look like an unhinged clown…” Tom muttered in a pained tone, purely to make her laugh.

Severus greeted her with a smile, unsurprised by her attire, but pleased non the less, “Sending black into colour-retirement I see.”

“For a lifetime! I can’t wait to go pick some new clothing out.”

Her godfather knew that Narcissa also couldn’t wait, kitting Jim out had always been a favourite pastime of Lady Malfoy. Severus suspected that the nursery would need a second wardrobe by the end of the weekend. Or he could look up enlargement enchantments…

“Ceely will be happy to take care of the old clothes,” the houseelf was already fussing over the girl again, like she usually did, “Now little Lady James must eat, to grow up strong!”

“Thank you,” James answered, taking a bite from her oven-warm bread and exclaimed, “This is delicious!”

Ceely blushed with pride at the praise and kept humming to herself while she did Merlin-knew in the kitchen.

The Malfoys arrived shortly after, Draco rushing to embrace James and then his godfather, already talking like a waterfall.

Narcissa chuckled at her son’s antics, hugging James in greeting and then, smiling brightly at Severus, she did a little bow, “Lord Prince, as always a pleasure to see you.”

“Will you stop that,” he muttered, but he kept grinning, even as she hugged him.

“Not yet used to the name?”

“It will take a while,” he admitted. That had been the one thing Trajan had asked for, that Severus would take the name of his mother’s family as his heir. Severus had not been too keen, but on the other hand, he had never been to attached to his father’s name either. In the end, it had been an easy decision, as his grandfather (still strange to think of him with that title) had virtually made no other requests. And it had pleased his mother, which was just a nice side effect.

“Not too long I suspect, my dear _half-blood Prince,_” she used his school-time nickname fondly and Severus was glad to see that there was no sorrow, just nostalgia in her eyes as she said that.

There was a bit happier chitchat until Narcissa looked at the time and stated that the ‘Ladies of the house’ would take their leave, “Do you have everything that you need, James?”

That she had indeed, her backpack stuffed with the few things she would need for two days and were not already at the manor, “Of course, Aunt Cissy.”

“Very good - Shall we?”

“You bet!” James exclaimed happily. Seeing her aunt’s smile slipping for just a second at her ‘uncouth language’, as she would say, she added a polite, “Please.”

Narcissa’s smile was warm as ever, “We will have so much fun.”

o ~ O ~ o 

_Evening_

_29 April 1988_

_Place de l'Opéra, 9th arrondissement, Paris, France_

The time difference between New Zealand and France made it so that fittings had to wait for the next day, but instead Narcissa took her to her very first ballet performance.

“Wow,” James breathed as she saw the _Palais Garnier, _the old opera house. It was already dark and the main facade was illuminated by spotlights so all the artistic details were as clear as it were the middle of the day.

It was almost overwhelming, the mass of decorations and statues and the eight-year-old didn’t know where to look first.

“It’s beautiful…”

“Just wait until you see the insides,” Narcissa told her with a wide smile.

Her words did ring true, James and Tom would’ve stared slack-mouthed at the grand staircase of they would allow themselves such behaviour.

_I need to remember this, _she thought giddily.

“Why?” Tom was busy starring at the high ceiling that was painted over and over.

_I want it all in my mind palace._

“…What?!”

_That would be so cool! Just imagine it._

“I do. It would be overwhelming. And I would have to live with it!”

James chuckled, which seemed to Narcissa as if she laughed to herself, a little lost in her thoughts, _maybe not the complete hall_, she allowed, _but some of the details. Maybe the staircase…_

“This way,” Narcissa guided her to their seats, there were not too many people there, which made it easier.

While the auditorium slowly filled, Narcissa translated the programme of _“Casse-Noisette”_ for her niece, surprised when James tried to pronounce the words herself and asked for some basic words.

“Do you want to learn French?”

“Maybe,” James shrugged, “I mean… the Van Kirks always speak English for us - well, me, since Sev speaks French - or use translation spells. Only seems fair to learn French to speak it with them, don’t you think?”

“That is a very thoughtful gesture, James. I am proud of you.”

The girl positively beamed at the praise, happy that Narcissa thought it a good idea also.

As the lights went off, James and Tom concentrated on the stage, curious how the ballet would be like. *

o ~ O ~ o

_Morning_

_30 April 1988_

_Jardin de roses, town house of Narcissa Malfoy_

_Batignolles, 17th arrondissement, Paris, France_

James and Narcissa sat on the balcony of her town house, drinking tea after a light breakfast and discussing last night’s outing.

The eight-year-old had rambled half the right home about the music, the dancing - everything about “the nutcracker” really - but the gentle rocking of the carriage on the way back had put her to sleep rather quickly. Narcissa had carried her niece to bed.

When one of the houseelfs announced the arrival of a Madam Brodeur along with her daughters, James was still gushing over the prima ballerina and her dancing.

“Take them to the conservatory, Rye. We will be down in a moment.”

“I thought we would go for the fitting now,” James tried hard not to sound accusatory, but she didn’t see why Narcissa would invite guest over now of all times. And she had expected that woman, she was clearly unsurprised by the news.

“Darling, Madam Brodeur is out seamstress. She is here for the fitting.”

“Oh,” James had thought they would go into a shop like… normal people? As she voiced that out load, Narcissa actually giggled a little, “That’s true. I wanted it to be special,” she stood, extending her hand for James to take, “You will like it. Madam Brodeur is a dear.”

The girl came along easy, not curious how this would go.

She had not been in the conservatory before, it had a lot less plants than she had expected, the morning light filtering through the glass roof.

A rather small, slender woman was already scurrying around, handling bulks of fabric to two young girls, “Put these on the middle table, not the big one. And don’t crinkle the satin!”

Hearing their approaching footsteps (no doubt thanks to Cissy’s ridiculously long heels, James thought) she turned, the girls taking position behind her as if they were trained to do so.

“Dame Malfoy, a pleasure to see you again. Thank you for choosing our humble business.”

James was only eight, but even she thought that was laying it a bit thick. Narcissa, one the other hand, seemed to expect this treatment through, “Of course - This is my niece,” she mentioned towards James at that.

“Dame Potter,” the seamstress looked at her with more awe and interest than the girl was comfortable with, “It is an honour. I am Nanon Brodeur, these are my daughters, Eloise and Solange.”

The girls did a little bow as each their names were said, but James was a little worried that she would mix them up, they looked like twins.

She didn’t have time to ponder on it through, Narcissa was taking charge and soon James stood on a little rostrum and Madam Brodeur circled her like a shark.

“We will need to enhance her exquisite colouring,” the seamstress just said and one of her daughters scribbled something on a notepad, “Warm colours to complement her skin. Earth tones will be a good fit, but something that won’t clash with the tinge of red her hair has… Yes, warm charcoal will work also, maybe a few off-whites and ivory. Gold for the details.”

“That’s a too muted pallet for an eight-year-old,” Narcissa disagreed, feeling a piece of brown wool, “James, what would you like?”

She thought for a moment, “I like greens! And violet.”

Madam Brodeur clicked her tongue, but didn’t stop mustering James, “Yes… Light greens, maybe a few darker accents. Violet… Let’s see for a shade that doesn’t clash with her hair.”

The next two hours were not particularly entertaining for James, as she was essentially playing mannequin. Narcissa and Madam Brodeur discussed colours, patterns and what her new wardrobe had to entail. She soon defaulted to letting her aunt handle this and talked about yesterday’s performance with Tom.

Eloise and Solange were finally task with fitting various robes, trousers, tunics, cloaks (the list went on) on James, while the seamstress held an avid discussion with Narcissa about her own new wardrobe.

The sisters were conversing lowly in French and James didn’t understand them, of course.

“Quelle gourmandise gâtée,” one of them - Eloise? - just said and Tom snorted angrily at her words, “She just called you a brat.”

James flinched a little upon hearing that, _what else are they saying?_ she asked.

“Ne sois pas si méchant. La fille n'a que huit ans!”

“I think she is reprimanding her. Saying, you are just eight.”

The other sister laughed, not sounding amused at all, “Elle est comme sa tante. Elle pense qu'elle est mieux parce qu'elle a plus d'argent que vous ne pourrez jamais en dépenser.”

Tom grimaced, unhappy he could quite make sense of her words, “Something… that you are like Narcissa? And about money, but I didn’t get that.”

“Tu connais les rumeurs. Tu crois vraiment qu’elle a vaincu un sorcier noir?”

For ‘sorcier noir’, James didn’t even need a translation. They were discussing that damn bastard.

“Ne sois pas ridicule!” the sister, who had called James entitled, hissed back, “Cet enfant ne pourrait même pas me vaincre! C’est probablement de la propagande du ministère britannique.”

“This one thinks it was propaganda by the British ministry. That you defeated… him.”

_Interesting_, James wasn’t really jubilant about what she had heard, but the last part was partly true. Propaganda yes, but by Dumbledore, not the Ministry.

_I always wondered why he did that anyway_, she mused, _why painting me as a hero?_

“He probably had something long term in mind,” Tom shrugged, “But just what we’ll probably never now.”

She nodded, both agreeing and thinking that she didn’t plan to come near enough Dumbledore to ask him anywhere in the foreseeable future.

o ~ O ~ o

_7 May 1988_

_Gringotts Bank_

_Diagon Alley, London, England_

James skipped between Narcissa and Severus, holding on each of their hands, happily humming a tune to herself.

Today was the day. She would be Sev’s daughter and she couldn’t be more exited.

They crossed the threshold of the bank, stopping to remove all concealing spells put on them.

The tunic and trousers James wore, were new ones, light green and violet with small, golden flowers and leaves embroidered on the hems and collar. As rude as her daughters were, Madam Brodeur surely made nice clothing.

Narcissa was also wearing a new dress and James loved to see her in something other than black.

Severus was much more aware of his surroundings than either his friend or his charge.

Dumbledore and McGonagall awaited them. The headmaster with his usual mask of harmless benevolence and the head of house Gryffindor glaring at him like she had back in his schooldays when he had hexed on of her precious lions.

“What a happy coincidence to meet you, my boy.”

Severus did not believe for one second that this was a coincidence at all. But they were at Gringotts, one of the safest places in all of England _and_ Dumbledore had no sway here like he did in the Ministry. Aside from talking, there was not much the headmaster could do.

“Take James to Redblade’s office, Narcissa,” he murmured towards her, letting go of James’ hand to deal with the old man and get him away from his goddaughter. It would be years until he could forgive himself for that.

“What do you want, Dumbledore?” he asked coldly, before he had even reached them. He wanted this to be over and done with.

“There is no reason for such hostilities,” the headmaster used the same mild chiding tone, Severus had always hated.

“I doubt that - Now out with it, I don’t have all day to bask in your disapproving glares.”

McGonagall exhaled sharply through her nose, the “disrespect” raising her hackles like a charm, “You cannot adopt her, she is not your daughter!”

Severus almost signed. The old tune it was then.

“Will you not reconsider, Severus?” Dumbledore tried a milder approach, “It might be for the best.”

He was about to tell the headmaster where he could shove it, when _something_ made his hair stand on end.

His instinct screamed _danger! _And his mind had a terrifying addendum, **_Corbillat!_**

Severus spun, wand already in hand, only to see James being ripped from Narcissa’s side, **out of thin air!**

“Dad!”

He had no chance to cast a spell, there was the whirl of a portkey being used and his goddaughter was gone.

There was about three second of stunned, unbelieving silence.

Then hell broke loose.

o ~ O ~ o

_Moments later_

_Former home of the Dumbledore-family_

_Castle lane 29, Godric’s Hollow, England_

James still recognised the feeling of a portkey, but before she could even try to come to terms with the situation, she landed hard on wooden floor.

“Are you alright? Rose?”

She backed away from whoever had taken her, rolling and then trying desperately to get on her feet.

_What can you do about it?_ Moody’s voice echoed in her head.

_Your portkeys! Use your portkeys!_

“Felix feliz -”

James was still disoriented, the hard tug on her necklace made her stumble back to the ground and the chain broke. Her pedants, her portkeys, cluttered to the ground, landing Merlin knew where.

“I am so sorry! It’s alright now, I am here, Rose.”

She looked up, finding Alice Longbottom kneeling on the floor, about to try and coddle her.

Before she could, James turned, getting on her back, and kicked, hard, aiming for Alice’ face.

There was a sickening **crunch** when her boot connected with the witches’ nose.

Alice howled, holding her hands in front of her face, blood trickling out between her fingers.

James didn’t lose time to feel satisfaction or guilt, she got up and ran. Alice tried to grab her, but missed and screamed after her, “What are you DOING?!”

_Look for the door, look for the door!_

The house was old, dusty and she was still feeling dizzy from the forced travel. She found a cramped hallway - and what could only be the front-door! She lunged for it, only to find it looked.

A shrill shriek echoed through the house; James knew that it could only be Fawkes.

_Dumbledore! No, no, no, no!_

Desperately she shook the door-handle, cursing herself for not taking her staff with her.

“My dear, what are you doing?”

James turned, trembling, glaring at the old man with all her might, “Leave me alone!”

He signed, his suppose-to-be-gentle smile was still in place, even as he raised her wand, “Be assured, my dear. This is only for the best. Obliviate!”

**“NO!”**


End file.
